Resolution
by Talaraine
Summary: It's been years since the Reaper War ended. The threat is over and all is well. Right? ...Right? Well here I am again. Couldn't stay away. I reckon a part of me will always dwell with these people and this galaxy and frankly, that ain't so bad. For those who haven't read Resolve this may not make much sense, so I recommend you start there.
1. Chapter 1

At long last it would be hers. She couldn't count how many hours and days had been spent plotting for this purpose or how many contacts she had to make to procure the necessary equipment and material to bring it to fruition. She'd had to use her Spectre status on one occasion to strongarm a recalcitrant customs officer, something she hated doing as it endangered her anonymity, and had to chalk up favors to procure the required chemicals as well, but at long last...her time had come.

Fingers brown with the soil of another world parted the green leaves before her to behold her target. Red and bulbous with a dark green and black cap that streaked down the sides of its body, it dangled before her eyes, oblivious to its fate. Shepard stilled her breath as she spotted something similar concealed behind it. Two of them? How could she have missed that little detail? Never had it been so clear that she was out of practice.

A warmth she hadn't felt since childhood curled her lips into a smile and she reached to gently take each of them into a palm. They weren't as heavy as she would have liked. The differences in gravity and nutrients were simply too hard for her to calculate but they felt sturdy nonetheless...firm with a gentle suppleness that spoke of long days in the sun, of sweetness and reward. She pulled gently at them and with a simultaneous push of her thumbs parted them from the vine.

She beheld them for awhile as the voice of the breeze and Thessian flora took her back to another place, far away and long ago. Their scent begged her to pull them to her nose and inhale, bittersweet memories rising to fill her mind for another moment before she looked up to see Parnitha falling beneath the canopy. Had so much time passed? She rose and settled her precious cargo into a knapsack before rushing to clear away her tools and mess.

With the greenhouse sealed from the salt air she looked around once more to ensure all was as it should be and then headed for the main house at a joyful lope. She nodded to the servants who maintained the gardens before turning the corner to the entryway. She secretly thought they disapproved of her disheveled, dirty clothes here in this little pocket of perfection but didn't care, parting the double doors to the main house with a wave to the guards before heading straight to the kitchen.

"Liara!" she cried in the direction of the stairs. She had no expectation she'd be heard the first time so she called again, "You gotta see this!" Didn't matter, though; the staff would take the message to her directly, just as they moved aside and gave her counter space without her even having to ask. She licked her lips as she gazed at the irregular globes on the stone surface. It seemed almost unforgivable to harvest them; it might even approach the level of sin. Shepard reached for a small bowl and filled it with water to set reverently aside as penance.

One of them was smaller than the other; less developed, less ripe, likely not as quality...all excuses for the ravenous need that quickly took hold of her senses. At once she had a small knife in hand and parted it smoothly, separating the pieces to inspect its flesh. Ruby colored juice pooled beneath the raw-meat colored interior while pockets of white and green seeds appeared to her eyes.

Not bad. Not bad at all. But she needed to make sure, didn't she? It would be the responsible thing to do, after all. Yep.

A quick slice later and a wedge was between her lips and caressing her tongue. She pulled it in and chewed slowly, every taste bud critiquing what splashed. Shepard inhaled and let the air fill her mouth before judging, but her smile never dissipated, only grew. She was fishing in cabinets and grabbing bottles and containers and plates when she sensed someone behind her. She paused for a moment in her furor, not wanting to jostle the hands that slid around her waist and pulled her close.

The swelling of Liara's belly against the small of her back kept their bodies from melding together as they once might have, but the sensation made her sigh happily nonetheless. She turned her head, only just able to make out the face nuzzling the back of her neck before speaking.

"I think this is the one," she said softly, even after all this time unsure Liara could possibly appreciate this pseudo-supernatural thing missing from her world. "Probably needs a lot of work still, but.."

Liara's chuckle was warm against her sweat-slick skin. "Making excuses already?"

Shepard grinned crookedly and hid the blush that warmed her face. "Maybe. You be the judge," she said while slicing a quarter of the larger, gloriously plump tomato on the counter into bite sized chunks before offering one between her forefinger and thumb. "It's called a Black Krim."

She turned and watched Liara eat it, enamored by the simple beauty of her face, rapt with concentration while she chewed.

When Liara's eyes widened a fraction and focused on her with a bemused smile she knew it was good but couldn't resist asking the question anyway, "So? Thoughts?"

"The texture is improved," Liara replied with a slow nod. "Softer, sweeter, but still complex. Is it what you hoped for?"

Shepard didn't answer at first, slicing the rest of the tomato into neat circles before unwrapping a white roll of moist cheese and doing the same. Liara moved beside her silently and she could feel the Asari's probing gaze settle upon her. It was still hard to talk about home, even after years of work acknowledging those bitter memories, but things had slowly gotten better. Better thanks to the person beside her, the person she loved more than life.

"Not quite the same, no," she finally replied. "Dad's were family heirlooms, crossbred over decades. I may never get _that _tomato again, but this variety seems promising." She plucked two large leaves from a sprig of basil, layering the ingredients on small plates before dowsing them with rich, dark, balsamic vinegar. "Voila!" she declared, and cut both of the snacks into quarters before passing Liara a plate. They both picked up a section and Shepard touched hers to Liara's in a mock toast. "To the old world."

"To the new," Liara countered, her other hand sliding down over her abdomen as a wistful expression passed her face.

"The new," Shepard repeated lovingly before they both popped the treats into their mouths.

"Mmmn," Liara intoned with real pleasure. "That is delightful. What is it called?"

"Caprese, I think," she replied around a mouthful. "Glad you like it. I see more in our future as long as I can collect seeds."

Liara took another bite and chewed thoughtfully. "You should teach us how to care for these plants while you are gone."

Shepard nodded and scooped the seeds from the other tomato, depositing them in the bowl of water she had set aside. "Already taken care of. Besides, I'll only be gone a few days. No big deal." When she felt Liara's fingernails slide along her scalp from the back of her neck up and over her ears her lips curled into a smile, though she focused on drying her hands.

Liara's voice was warm and soft near her right ear, somehow both clinical and sultry in a way only she could manage. "Do you have your speech memorized this time, or are you planning to 'wing it' again?"

She turned to look into her wife's eyes and spun, sliding her hands around the Asari's softening hips. "You could always go with me, you know."

"And spoil your martial bonding event? I would only make things awkward. Besides," Liara dropped her eyes apologetically, "I have only a few more arrangements to make before I am untethered for good. I should focus on that."

"I know," she said softly and with regret. The T'Soni house had a great number of assets after the war but almost as many detractors. Hero, savant or no, the daughter of Benezia T'Soni unnerved the halls of power and her return to Thessia lined them up in opposition. Liara's first instinct, true to her bones, was to redeem her mother's name no matter the cost. She had the gift for political warfare, of course, and assuredly the motivation...but Shepard's advice came instead in the form of an age-old human idiom.

_Discretion is the better part of valor. _

Liara's purpose wasn't homegrown politics. She wasn't destined to be a Matriarch of her line or to guide her people publicly; she gave all of that up the day she went to Hagalaz. Instead, she needed to use tactics as appropriate to the battlefield as the boardroom, and that was to give your opponent exactly what they expected to see..the theatre of their own desires providing the distraction that allowed the achievement of your real objectives. It meant allowing 'them' to 'win'. It meant liquidating T'Soni holdings one by one in protracted 'battles' that left the 'victors' with comfort in their own abilities and Liara's failings. It meant the annihilation of what remained of her reputation; a chafing task in success but one that also allowed her to deftly maneuver agents into every level of business and government. In the end she would have more influence on her homeworld as the Shadow Broker than she would have ever achieved as the daughter of a Thessian traitor but it didn't sting less, and if anyone understood the pain of dying pride it was Shepard.

Liara sniffed delicately and lifted her eyes, steeled with quiet strength. "I am sending some information for Steven with you. I assume you will be seeing him while you are so close to his home?"

"Yeah," she confirmed with a nod. "He's coming down, too."

Liara smiled genuinely. "Tell him I am sorry to miss it?"

"Sure thing." Shepard cleared her throat and scratched the back of her neck, a tell she was well aware of but could stop no more than the tide when it came to _Liara _. "The uh...after parties for N7 graduates are sort of...legendary. You um...may hear some stories."

Her wife chuckled at her nervous stammering, eyes sparkling with affection. "Am I supposed to be jealous?"

Shepard smiled with a sudden easy confidence and leaned in close to brush rose lips against violet. "Are you?" she asked with an arching brow.

That affection changed color before her eyes; the warmth of summer afternoons turning frost cold and ice sharp. "Well," she said in a tone that was meaningfully shy of sensual, "If what I have isn't enough to keep you home," she continued, hands wandering into dangerous territory and eliciting a startled gasp from her, "And knowing that you are all being watched even in your most secure locations doesn't daunt you, I simply present as point of evidence one Commander James Vega."

Shepard rolled her eyes dramatically and snorted herself into a chuckle before drawling, "Uh...yeah…" There were few people in the universe as devoted to her. She was 'blood to him' and had been informed to that effect on more than one drunken occasion. Vega hid a tender sense of propriety beneath vast casings of muscle and dirty looks. He'd defend her to the end, verbally or physically; but as he'd grown into himself over the course of his training he'd also picked up the habit of telling her when she was being an ass and would undoubtedly pummel anyone tempting her away from virtue while on her visit.

"Nothing to worry about, then," she resigned with a shrug of her shoulders.

"Anyway," Liara explained, her smile brightening at the change of subject, "We will have our own adventure when you return."

Shepard fairly glowed with pride at the words, her palms sliding over the globe of Liara's abdomen. A world of possibilities lit behind her eyes just like every moment she ever gave in consideration of the child growing there. Their second. This one with all the protection they couldn't provide the first. All the peace. All the love. A future. She pulled Liara close again, unable to get enough of that warmth, her fingertips gliding back around those hips and over the sensitive small of her back just so she could pull a similar gasp from her beloved's lips.

"Our greatest adventure yet," she whispered before pulling the rest of Liara's breath away in a deep kiss.

The meld encompassed them effortlessly. There was no need to ask permission anymore; it was unspoken but agreed upon with every fiber of their beings. Together, entwined with them in the fathomless but welcoming void that was their inner world was their daughter Athena, who knew her name before she was even born. She was quiescent but sensate, her essence stirring joyously at the arrival of their trusted presence.

It'd been a long road to get here. Each of them had been forced to use the tools of their mortal enemy to survive the war and as it was said, looking into the dark meant the dark looked also into you. They'd both done things they weren't proud of; things that crossed the line, things that made them little better than the people they'd fought. It'd taken time and patience for them to reveal that shared guilt to one another and longer to forgive themselves but there had never been a single moment of doubt about _why _and that had carried them through. They fought each and every day for each other and for _what could be, _so it was ironic that the one thing Shepard had the hardest time letting go of was the unasked and uninformed impregnation of their first child.

She'd forgiven it at first...of course she had. What was that compared to the end of the world? But it began to rankle as time wore on, as she was forced to delve within herself and heal old wounds, come to terms with what she had done, what had been asked of her and what had been taken from her again and again by the Batarians, by the Alliance, by the Council and by the Illusive Man. To have Liara take as well without asking began to seem similar in scope; their first child Benezia's premature end simply an additional cut to bleed her after she was dry.

It wasn't that Shepard couldn't see the Asari's point of view in that spur of the moment instinct. Liara made the decision because she didn't believe Shepard would agree to the act when they both might die in the next few hours or might force her to stay on the Normandy during the fight of their lives if she had. No, whether or not Shepard agreed with the choice she could still understand the reasoning, could understand why Liara chose _any _potential future over the end of _everything _; but that didn't make the decision _right _and it sure as hell hadn't boded well for the delicately balanced relationship they tried to build in the aftermath.

Perhaps that's why Liara consented so quickly to the dissolution of her house. Perhaps it'd been a sacrifice on the altar of her commitment to their relationship. In the meld Shepard could sense Liara's conflict about it but the one thing that was perfectly clear was the Asari's intent to make things right; which then made Shepard feel guilty about any judgment at all. What was this when measured against the effort Liara put forth just to return her to _life _after Alchera? The haunting hypercritical judgement of past deeds was as cyclical and unending as a hurricane and it was in the eye of that swirling dance of emotion that they finally found a lasting truce.

They'd both done the best they could under the circumstances. They'd both made mistakes. They'd both paid for the future with a piece of their souls...but that transaction was now complete. Should they squander it now that they held it in their hands? Never. They spent months in their secret cabin together; sleeping, eating, talking, living and loving. They took the time they'd been so long denied to put themselves back together piece by piece. They sometimes argued, sometimes cried and often nursed their own wounds; but they were never ever _alone _.

When the relays finally opened they decided to abandon their hideaway and make their way to Thessia to settle in at Liara's ancestral estate. Shepard soon talked to one of the agents beating down her door for appearances and they both began their new 'careers' in the spotlight of the galaxy, all the while plying their secret trade as Shadow Brokers. Well, Liara's secret trade anyway. Shepard's 'protection detail' had proven a bit redundant, what with the House guards and the river of intelligence keeping them weeks ahead of any potential threats.

But Shepard had her hobbies. She had the greenhouse, her ship models, combat simulators (her opponents only knew who kicked their can by the name 'JustanAlt'), her exercise regimen and meditation. She stayed in touch with the gang regularly and they'd had get-togethers, including an epic redux of shore leave in a swank hotel erected near Anderson's old apartment on the fully repaired Citadel (Finally relocated back home in the Serpent Nebula where it belonged). She kept an eye on all things Spectre related too, of course, but was careful to keep them at arm's as she might she was still sometimes tempted to get involved when she shouldn't. _That's what Ashley's for _had become her mantra. Provide intel only, she told herself, no more click-bang-fu.

It may have taken a while but Shepard eventually came to realize that for the first time she was truly happy about her life, her marriage and the world into which she was about to bring a new wriggling blue baby. Liara's soul echoed that sentiment in their meld; a sense of pleasant, calm contentment wrapping around them all like a soft blanket, but it wasn't long before Shepard could feel her wife's mirth begin to bubble like a spring. She opened her eyes and saw Liara's crinkled with that same laughter, shaking her head ruefully.

"What?" Shepard asked with a broad grin.

"Nothing," she answered enigmatically, then relented, "It is good to see you so excited about going back to Earth."

"Yeah," Shepard said, sobering a bit. "It _is _good, isn't it?" She paused, struggling to find the words to match her feelings, something they'd worked tirelessly on together. "I guess…" she started, "I guess it's pride. We've come back pretty well down there and to see Vega become an N7 it's…" She took a deep breath. "It's like passing the baton."

Liara caressed Shepard's cheek. "Proof that your job is done?" she asked tenderly.

Shepard nodded "I suppose so," she said before a glint of mischief appeared in her eyes. "Means I can enjoy the lap of luxury in my old age. No doubts, no regrets."

Liara rolled her eyes expressively and retorted, "Shall I begin looking into hospice for you so soon?"

"God, I hope not!" Shepard laughed. "Who else is gonna be able to keep up with our little monster while you're at work?"


	2. Chapter 2

Sand. Warm sand between her toes. She'd forgotten what it felt like and it was glorious. So was the sun on her back, the salt in the air and the sound of the waves; all doing their bit to unwind the tension in her shoulders. She'd never really taken a vacation before, oddly enough. Between her father, then Cerberus, then her father again followed by the war, there was very little time to appreciate anything but momentary success. Life hadn't slowed much after the war either, what with Shepard's third bloody coming, and Miranda's new stint as a Shadow Broker was no slouch in the competition.

She'd blinked and a year and a half was gone without stepping foot off the Icarus, her relative seclusion only broken by visits from Jack and a couple of days away for Shepard and Liara's wedding. Another year disappeared after the relay network was completely restored and the Icarus was refitted with the best tech they'd gleaned from the data cache; quickly followed by the relocation of that most valuable treasure in the galaxy to the center of it, an unforgiving, virtually uninhabitable place that defied every sensor ever created.

Now finally, six months later, the carefully constructed lattice of agents woven across the galaxy knew their jobs and how to communicate properly without getting caught, were able to be paid with just as little notice and best of all, some clever AI work by Liara on Glyph automated most of the repetitive tasks. They had a redundant hierarchy of cells, modeled much after the Cerberus organization, that was flexible enough to function on its own for awhile if need be...

Which meant she now had time to walk down a lovely beach on Virmire, populated with small groups of vacationing high-rollers. Still, despite the hundreds of people around her and the lingering looks she received as she wandered, Miranda felt alone. It was a strange contrast to the _connection _she felt to the rest of the galaxy when seated at the broker console. The communication with so many people in so many places gave her a window into their worlds, a glimpse into the lives of countless others that perked both her interest and imagination. When she logged off at the end of her endurance it was to the quiet thrum of the Icarus and the growing emptiness of her own existence; at least until Jack strode in to blissfully assault it….and her.

Her sand-burned footsteps eventually led her to a quaint beach bar where she ordered a drink and checked her messages again, the last of which from her intermittent lover having only three words.

**_Gonna be late..._**

Nothing since and that was two days ago. Wasn't especially unusual for Jack of course; ever since she'd left to work on Omega her missions called her away randomly. The message she'd sent this time was really quite short, though. Something must have came up last minute. She scolded herself for worrying but did anyway.

"Now, why does a woman in one of the most beautiful places in the galaxy look like she'd rather be anywhere else but here?"

Miranda turned toward the voice on her right and found an older man gazing at her over the edge of a work tablet. His expression was curious as he set the tablet down, reaching up with the same hand to scratch the beginnings of a grey beard on his cheek.

"Why is a man in one of the most beautiful places in the galaxy working? At a bar, no less," Miranda fired back with a friendly smirk.

The man grinned crookedly and gave a nod. "Well, if you had the choice of working with a stuffy old wall as a backdrop or.." He turned and gestured widely at the panorama, "This, which would you choose?"

She took a sip of her wine before answering. "You don't find it difficult to concentrate?"

"Heh," he replied before taking a drink of his own dark liquor. "At my age I'll lose focus anyway. Might as well put a smile on my face while I'm at it."

"You live here, then?"

"Oh no, nono. Far too expensive I'm afraid. Just here on assignment. I'll be leaving in the morning."

"An assignment, here? Counting coconuts are we?" she asked archly.

The man chortled in his chest and shook his head. "No accounting for me, thank you very much. I'm here researching what happened to the Berkman boy."

Miranda blinked in mild confusion. "Berkman boy?"

"Ah, probably weren't here for that I suppose. Boating accident about two months ago. The whole family was lost but one. Tragic." The man's face illuminated, "The only survivor was a young lad named Aemon, almost three years old. Remarkable, just remarkable. He was rescued from the the wreckage after it was spotted by an air patrol."

"That's...terrible, I'm sorry to hear it," Miranda commiserated. "But why does that bring you here?"

"Well, you see," he explained as if he'd waited all day for someone to ask him that very thing, "The boy should have drowned. They found him inside the boat with only a few pockets of air. When they brought him back, the attending physician made a startling discovery!" He paused long enough to take another drink, clearly reveling in his role as storyteller. He looked around a bit conspiratorially before the grande finish. "The boy, you see….had gills."

She looked at him for a long moment. "Gills. Really. You're putting me on."

The man shook his head and slid the workpad into his hands. With a few strokes he pulled up photographs and displayed them to her proudly. "It's the strangest thing I've ever seen. We've collected all the data and samples, now we just have to figure out what happened. _How _it happened."

It was ridiculous. It couldn't be true, but as she slid image after image before her eyes they appeared to be authentic. "What will happen to the boy?" she asked distractedly before handing back the pad.

The gentleman shrugged, "He's perfectly healthy. Might have some social issues, of course, but he's going to live with family, so he should be fine."

"Were the parents aw.." she started, but was stopped by a notification on her Omni.

**_Hey, I'm at the room. Where are you?_**

Her fingers flew over the haptic keys.

**_On the beach, of course. Talking with boys._**

"And there it is," the man said wistfully as he watched her. "A smile at last."

A blush crept across her cheeks at the revelation. Had she really grown so easy to read? She lifted her eyes and held out a hand. "I'm terribly rude. Miranda Lawson."

"Robert Webb," he responded with a handshake and a briefly distant gaze, "Lawson….I know that name."

She smiled again and nodded, but lowered her voice a smidge. "Let's just keep that between us for now? Vacation and all."

"Of course, of course," he agreed readily and ordered another drink.

Miranda did the same, a whiskey straight up.

Robert laughed. "Wine _and _whiskey? You must have quite the evening planned!"

She chuckled and sipped her wine. "It's for Jack."

"Lucky man," he said, nodding sagely.

"Would you mind sending me the results of your study here? My curiosity is piqued."

"Oh? I don't recall you being interested in genetics, though I obviously don't know you personally. May I ask what field you're working in these days?"

She shrugged and tilted her head from side to side. "Dabbling in a bit of pathology at the moment. Here's my contact information."

While their comps shared info they continued to chit-chat, but a minute later Robert looked up toward the beach and then, suddenly, returned his gaze back to his workpad. Just after, Miranda felt fingers pull her hair back from the right side of her face and then warm wet lips on her throat just beneath the jaw. Her eyes closed and she drew in a deep breath, tilting her head to give those lips more access.

She smiled widely and spoke without ever parting her eyelids. "What took you so long?"

The lips left her skin and teeth bit her earlobe before Jack's words hummed into her ear, "Work's a bitch. What can I say?"

Miranda's hand slipped behind Jack's legs and slid up loose fitting cargo pants to her naked waist while she confronted Robert's odd look. The fingers of her other hand found the highball and presented it to an eager Jack, who killed it in a swallow before putting it back on the bar.

"Jack? This is Robert. Robert, this is...Jack."

"Chatting up fossils, huh," Jack drawled, looking at the scientist. "Looks like I showed up just in time." Her expression turned predatory, "Want a threesome, baby?"

Her words set the man to scowling before Miranda intervened. "So territorial! If you're that worried about my virtue perhaps you might have arrived on the day you said you would."

Jack narrowed her eyes. "Hey, if you wanna bone him I can come back in five minutes...give you both time to get dressed and shit."

Miranda arched an eyebrow and Jack clenched her jaw. Robert used the standoff to excuse himself, and Jack helped herself to his empty barstool.

"Hard week?" Miranda asked after a moment, tight-lipped.

Jack grunted noncommittally and planted a finger by her highball where the bartender could see it.

Miranda spun on her stool to take in the waves and sighed. "No better place to let it go, then."

When Jack said nothing after downing another shot, Miranda's left hand reached out to tug Jack's stool around to face the sun-brightened beach. Her smile disarmed the dark look on the woman's face after a moment and her lover stretched, unconsciously highlighting her physique. Miranda's eyes lingered there, appreciating the gifts her tech had provided. Jack stood around 180 centimeters tall after her full body upgrade and her mass had been increased significantly with muscle for combat. All her tattoos had been replicated, of course, but new ones had been added to reflect who Jack was now, complete with ink that could light up on command in a palette-full of colors.

Not all the improvements were for Jack's benefit alone, though. Her hair fell between her shoulder blades today in a rich, dark ponytail just for Miranda. It too could act on command, letting Jack run bare and battle ready most of the time while growing that one simple pleasure for her whenever they were together. Miranda curled the ebon tail around her fingers while her nails brought goosebumps to the back of Jack's neck. That simple touch unwound the tension in the woman further, finally producing a long sigh that brought Jack's eyes to hers with something a little less than fire in them.

"No big deal," Jack said. "Damn scavengers is all. Came at us on purpose couple days back. Think Omega 4 won't kill 'em just 'cause one lucky sonofabitch brought back some booty."

Miranda shrugged matter-of-factly. "Could always let Darwin's law take care of it. Why does she even care who goes through that relay?"

Jack chuckled. "Oh no, I know _that _tone of voice. You know I can't talk about this shit with you."

Miranda smiled crookedly. "How do you know I don't already know all about it?"

"Easy," she replied with a frustrated glower. "You wouldn't ask. Lay off."

Lawson chuckled and winked, relenting before she got Jack all stirred up again. "Alright then, want to go for a ride? I'm sure we can find someplace less…."

"Crowded?" Jack finished for her with a wicked gleam in her eyes. "What's the fun in that? Nobody knows who you are."

When Miranda gave her most innocent look she just rolled her eyes. "What, you _told _him? Christ, Miri. All that work for anonymity and you let it go for a homeless geezer?"

"_ Not _homeless," Miranda corrected her. "And I wanted his research. They don't just hand that out to random people, you know."

"Really?" Jack growled. "I thought this was supposed to be vacation."

Miranda slid her hand down to Jack's, then she stood and pulled her from her seat to stand face to face before looking into her eyes and purring, "It _is _vacation, I just got a little bored waiting for you." A final smile and warm kiss melted the rest of Jack's reticence and they slid their arms around one another and pulled close.

Jack whispered the closest thing to an apology she could muster. "I eh...got a lil somethin' for ya."

When Jack ground her hips against her own, she felt a pulsing bulge there that made color rise on her cheeks before she laughed out loud. "_ That _is not little."

Jack laughed too and they looked into each other's eyes with furtive fondness before she replied, "Not cheap either. I'm definitely gettin' a turn."

Miranda's hands wandered lower to cup Jack's rear and she grinned before lazily kissing her. "Count on it."

She woke entangled in Jack's warm limbs, the sheets thrown off early in the evening to feel the sea breeze flowing through the windows. It was still dark but Miranda perceived the faint hues that heralded sunrise just the same. They'd played hard through much of the night, taking each other to their limits and sometimes...just a tad beyond. It was an odd thing, their shared sado-masochism. Sometimes, they'd found, in order to stay whole you needed to occasionally _break; _and in each other they'd found a safe place to explore the phenomenon to its fullest.

They'd collapsed in the wee hours, shuffling off the worries and tension that wove through their lives, and Miranda wished she could just stay still and sleep but it wasn't to be. She'd never slept well with another person in the room and likely never would; some habits were just too deeply ingrained. She lay there for awhile instead, sleepily enjoying the way their bodies fit together. Jack's hair was loose and flowing, her arm thrown over Miranda's bare chest and her face tucked under Miranda's chin. Her soft breathing was barely audible over the movement of the curtains and the surf outside but it was warm against her throat and very pleasant. If she ever needed blackmail against the mercenary she needed only reveal just how much Jack tended to cuddle when she slept.

Her workpad was pulsing slowly with a notification in night-mode from the side table and she studiously ignored it in favor of watching the curves of Jack's body take shape in the rising light. Native birds began calling as they hunted crustaceans outside. Soon the resort would begin to bustle and by extension the rest of the galaxy (she could pretend everyone out there was sleeping for just a minute, couldn't she?) but this moment was hers; sound, sensation and emotion over data, holograms and haptic interfaces.

Miranda lazily slid her fingers over the skin of Jack's shoulder and back gently, brushing cleverly arranged tattoos that once disguised nasty looking scars. Her skin was clear of those red and irritable puckers now; they were only a memory, no matter how obstinate. While full body replacement was all the rage now, Jack's desire for it continued to surprise her. She'd had logistical reasons of course, given her profession and employer, but Jack was a biotic and a damned good one. She didn't really _need _neuro-chem enhancement, artificial plus-grav bone lacing or the ability to see into the ultraviolet and infrared spectrum but then...you never really knew, did you? It might come in handy someday.

Still, those alterations should have been against everything Jack stood for. The woman had been sawed on for years to make her a better biotic and hated her captors for it...only to continue the process later herself. How did _that _work, psychologically? It was a mystery on top of all the others with which she struggled when it came to her lover. If they had more time together she might sort it out, but if Miranda was honest with herself it was really her own fault. Until she had suggested this vacation Jack had been the only one reaching out while she stayed buried in her work.

They'd fought about it on more than one occasion over the last year, each confrontation worse than the last. Jack would inevitably be offended that Miranda couldn't just drop everything and have some fun with all her money and fame. Miranda would then point out the hypocrisy of that statement..Jack's own choice of employment was just as superfluous when all she had to do was _stay _there with Miranda. It's not like Jack needed the money, was it, if they were together? It became such a dreadfully common argument that Miranda began to mark time by it and on one of those last nights after Jack left in a rage, when the silence had its own accusatory voice, she realized something needed to change...or Jack might eventually decide not to return.

She'd gotten angry then. How could Jack not understand why being a Shadow Broker deserved her attention? She was shaping galactic events every single day! No matter how many people Jack could kill she'd never have that effect, could never know the responsibility that came with such power. How could she turn her back on such a task for frivolity? And yet at the same time she could see how callous the thought process was, how demeaning it was to the partner upon whom she'd slowly and steadily come to rely on like oxygen.

She couldn't remember just when it had happened, this codependency she'd previously and publicly ridiculed; but in the rare moments when she lifted her gaze from her work there was only one face she longed to see. Those flashing eyes, that smokey voice, the feeling of rough and tattooed hands upon her body; Jacqueline Nought was dangerous and unpredictable….and everything she craved. She was the opposite of the order Miranda so carefully constructed around herself; a glimpse at the beating heart of the universe she spent so much time tending and a reminder of the horrible, terrifying war that nearly ended all of it. They'd both earned a reprieve without a doubt; but instead of Jack abandoning her for whatever pleasures could be had in the lawless kingdom of Omega she kept coming back to the Icarus again and again. For her. When the realization crystallized she'd arranged their vacation...a tardy apology and an attempt to mend the crumbling bridge between therm.

Jack stirred in her arms, breath hitching as she drew closer to wakefulness, so Miranda shifted slightly and held her closer while she rose from those inky depths. From time to time she still woke in a sweat with one of her student's names on her lips, a hell she never quite escaped despite her well-worn nonchalance; but being warm and held soothed it away better than questions or concern in Miranda's experience. It was, now that she thought about it, likely the reason for Jack's constant state of 'upgrade'...a poisonous need to never _fail _again. Holding her while she slept was the one thing she could do for Jack that the woman couldn't stubbornly resist or argue against, something that found its way to the core she so jealously guarded from everyone. Fortunately this had been one of her better nights; she heard a luxurious yawn in her ear instead of a choked whisper. Miranda pulled free to lie face to face with her while Jack rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

"Morning," she said with a quiet smile.

"Hey you," Jack mumbled, reaching over to pull a lock of untamed hair behind Miranda's ear. "Surprised you're still in bed."

"Mmn," she replied, "I get little enough time with you, as is."

Jack chuckled deep in her chest. "Gettin' soft on me?"

"After last night's performance?" Miranda asked, bringing a laugh from Jack. "Consider me hopeless."

"Thought you might like that," Jack purred. "You sore?"

Miranda pursed her lips and shook her head. "You?"

"Nope."

"Round two?" Miranda breathed hopefully before nipping Jack's bottom lip.

"Absofuckinglutely," Jack replied, then when her stomach growled obscenely she added, "After breakfast."

"Deal," Miranda agreed with a grin before untangling herself and sliding off the bed. She bent down and picked up a long length of leather whip from the floor, coiling it expertly in her hands before turning with an arched, questioning brow. It was met with a slow nod, Jack's eyes already darkening with need, so she set it on the side table rather than putting it away.

"Rough week indeed," she said thoughtfully while moving to the en suite. Jack predictably didn't respond, so she turned on the water to heat and pulled her hair into a top-bun. "Why don't you order us some food?" She turned again, feeling Jack's eyes upon her from where she lay. At her silent regard she sighed, "Right...fine, anything you want." Jack grinned like a kid and Miranda shook her head. "Some protein at least!"

"No problem," Jack said, waving with her hand to bring up the holoserv.

"Jack..." Miranda whispered loudly, alarmed at the sight of what would be visible to the clerk, then raised her voice further when she didn't answer. "Jack! Clothes for shit's sake!"

Jack only licked her lips naughtily as the holo screen materialized. She gave her the finger while she ordered everything wrong by dietary standards, too, until Miranda gave up and stepped into the shower.

The stuttering from the desk clerk was charming and Jack was clearly reveling in it, at least until they both heard the tell-tale sound of ordnance flying. They both hit the ground simultaneously, Jack cursing all the while. The nearby explosion was deafening, a deep bass shaking the foundations of every structure around them. They were scrambling for clothing in an instant and crouching down behind the bed to check weapons in the next.

"What the hell?" Jack cried derisively at the holoserv, "What's going on?"

"I...don't...please hold!" came the return voice, gunfire audible over the link before it went dead.

Jack looked at Miranda, whose eyes were glazed in frantic calculation. "Tell me you got something, Cheerleader."

"Not much," she replied quickly, scouring her memory before peering out the window at two armed shuttles making a line for their building. "Most likely Marauders looking for a quick score. They've been pissed since this place went straight...and made a profit."

Jack snickered and she holstered her sidearm demonstrably. "Raiders? Okay then, whattaya wanna do? Have a shuttle nearby?"

Frustration filled her. The very first time they'd had time to themselves in years was about to be cut short by at worst a hostage situation and at best the constabulary and endless interviews. The Alahanku resort was bankrolled by an investment conglomerate eager to recoup their losses from the war and determined to protect it from the lawless organizations that previously held so much sway in the Traverse. That meant they had security forces, a lot of them, but that wasn't the issue. Those troops would be forced to fight right among the guests they needed to protect and that seldom ended well for the customer. No, if this was to be handled expediently, the resort needed assistance. Biotic assistance.

Miranda shook her head, cocked her own weapon, then turned to look into Jack's eyes. "Screw the shuttle."

Jack's mouth hung agape for a moment, shut, then opened again, "Are...you saying what I think you're saying?"

They looked at each other for a long moment before they both laughed. Miranda threw her wet hair back over her shoulder. "I've been pent up for a bloody year. I'm not about to cut my vacation short while the local yahoos get this sorted."

Jack caught on quick. "Could take days."

"We'd have to rebook and reschedule," Miranda agreed.

"And I guess it doesn't matter if we're on the news because everyone pretty much knows we're here now anyway," Jack said with a accusatory smirk.

It was pointless to argue that Webb was about as likely to reveal her presence here as sprout another head, so Miranda shrugged and fired right back. "Well, your naked chest is pretty much a dead giveaway, isn't it?"

Jack's smirk grew and she chuckled, sliding a hand behind Miri's head to pull her close for a bruising kiss. Once parted, she grinned and whispered, "Love you."

Miranda smiled back and nuzzled her nose, "You, too."

The objective was relatively simple for a biotic team of their calibre. All they had to do was gauge the enemy's strength, then engage and push them off the beach and into the dunes behind the resort where the corp's militia could contain or eliminate them with less collateral damage. The corp was still almost certain to shut the place down but Miranda suspected that management's gratitude for a little assistance might play in their favor.

They got back to their room several hours later with lacerations, burns and bruising but also an upgrade to the penthouse of one of the undamaged towers and a comped receipt for their stay. There'd still been casualties but numerous holovids taken of the fighting showed the pair of them to be deadly but precise; a textbook display of martial prowess focused on saving lives. It wasn't long after those vids spread far and wide that they were identified as part of Shepard's Intrepid Few, and that's when the requests for photos and autographs began. Jack in particular drew attention with her unique look and seemed to settle into the unfamiliar role of hero with surprised pleasure for much of the afternoon.

Miranda chuckled after shutting the door to their rooms later. "Well that was...something."

Jack began stripping off her dirty clothes, leaving a trail toward the shower. "Was fun! Definitely didn't think we'd be revisiting the old days like _that _."

Miranda smiled thoughtfully, her memories vivid. "Yeah, it felt good to sort of _stretch _again, didn't it? You were amazing, by the way."

Jack stopped and turned at the compliment. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," she confirmed. "Seriously. That was just about the finest fighting I think I've seen from you. You were disciplined when required and a hellcat when it wasn't. Don't know what Aria's teaching you up there but whatever it is, don't stop."

Jack said nothing, just smiled quietly and dropped her gaze.

"Wait," Miranda said with a wry grin. "Are you blushing just now?"

At once the look was gone, Jack's eyes flashing with her usual disdain. "Nah, just threw up in my mouth a little," she declared before stepping into the shower.

"Mmmnhmm," she murmured in amusement before pouring herself a drink and sitting down to look out at the ocean. There before her on the table was her workpad, still patiently flashing. They were fairly dying of hunger and wanted to head up the coast for a meal but she had a few moments. Miranda relented and pulled it to her lap to have a look before cleaning up.

Along with a host of communiques was the data Dr. Webb had promised. She swiped her fingers across pages and pages of information, skimming them briefly before she narrowed in on the blood work. He was a healthy boy, exceptionally so. There was nothing to indicate any aberration here, so she skipped over to the DNA report for a quick look as Jack was already coming out of the bathroom.

"All yours," Jack said, running a comb through her hair and heading to her backpack. She managed to finish dressing before she realized Miranda hadn't moved, then snapped her fingers in the air to get her attention. "Miri? You're gonna shower, right? We prolly need to get going unless you wanna crack heads for a table."

But Miranda couldn't breathe. Her eyes and fingers double, triple checked what she was seeing, ignoring Jack's questioning looks for the moment. She'd been warned, had kept watch so long for this possibility it seemed a phantom of her imagination...but here it was. She looked up at Jack sadly, a universe of inexplicable, unpredictable dread opening up beneath her feet. She felt her eyes actually begin to well with sodding tears before she shut down her emotions with all the fury of her former Cerberus self.

Jack must have seen the emotion transform her because it was echoed in her own expression.

"What's wrong?" she asked in a voice that was suddenly spurious.

"Nothing," Miranda replied with all the warmth of an ice storm. "Looks like I'm going to need to head back anyway."

"Like fuck," Jack growled after a moment of stormcloud rage.

Miranda stood and locked eyes with her, "I can't do this now, okay?

"Then when?" she yelled, her arms thrown wide and skin already glowing blue. "You can't keep doing _this _forever!"

"Jack!" Miranda shouted in return then lowered her voice, her hands encouraging calm. "Just trust me, alright? This is really important."

"It's always important!" she shouted, hands on her hips. She took a deep breath and clenched her jaw, trying to keep her cool. "Fine. Tell me what's going on."

Miranda still clung to the hope she was mistaken and couldn't risk panicking Jack. Hell, she couldn't risk panicking anyone. She needed to figure this out and come back with facts rather than supposition. Miranda sighed and softly shook her head, then watched the emotions play across Jack's face; anger first, then for a brief moment most might have missed, sadness. When the indifference settled in, Miranda knew it was over.

"You know what?" Jack snarled, "Do what you gotta do. If you ever decide to _wake up _you know where to find me." She walked around the room snatching up her things and shoving them in her backpack, swearing angrily under her breath all the while.

"Jack," Miranda protested guiltily, digging her fingernails into her palms. "Jack, please, I just need a little time."

Jack slung the pack over a shoulder and straightened with a scathing smirk, "You got all the time you need. Just don't come back 'til you're actually finished with this shit, though. I'm done."

Her brow furrowed. "Wait a minute, you can't actually expect me to _quit _."

Jack paused after opening the door and looked back at her sincerely, "No. I actually don't."

Then she was gone, the door not quite shutting on her way out.


	3. Chapter 3

"Why don't we talk about this in private," the towering Krogan said with a gravelly voice and steady stare.

"There's nothing to talk about," Aria replied coolly from where she reclined on her couch shaped throne. "You already know the answer."

"Fine, then just humor an old man awhile. It's been a long time and I'm in the mood for some company."

Aria sighed and tilted her head back to look up at the towering ceiling of her nightclub. "Fine," she groaned, "Everyone else, out."

As various guards and lackeys for both parties filed through the door, Aria nodded to a sturdy padded bench made for those who might otherwise damage her favorite furniture. The Krogan's eyes were on the bar, though. "Help yourself," she said, allowing a half smile now that the room was empty.

"Don't mind if I do," he replied, his heavy footsteps a bass counterbeat to the still audible music from downstairs. "Glad to see you back on that chair. Didn't think you had another run in ya." He didn't turn to see her smirk as he poured.

"I think the only way either of us will give up our seats is when we're carried away in a bodybag," Aria said with a tired shake of her head.

"You want somethin'?" Wrex asked, turning slightly so his beady eyes could spot her expression.

Aria smirked again, "Whatever you're having is fine."

He turned back to the bottles before him, "Didn't take you for a ryncol girl."

"Only when circumstances dictate. I suppose talking to you is one of them," she drawled.

"Ouch." He turned and lumbered back over to hand her a tumbler full of clear liquid, then over to take his seat. "So...Jack still workin' out for ya?"

That was a turn in conversation she hadn't expected. She was bored already. "Didn't know you were interested."

The Warlord grunted, "Come on Aleena, take that stick outta your ass for a second and talk to me." He took a deep drink from his glass. "Not gonna kill ya."

"I don't know what's funnier, you thinking that name is going to soften me up or that the alcohol will."

Wrex grunted again. "Here, I'll show you how polite conversation works." He gestured to himself in the hypothetical conversation, "Only asking about Jack because one of my krantt has a soft spot for her. Would be nice to take back a good word or two." His hand then extended to her expectantly.

Aria huffed in amusement. "If she weren't working out she wouldn't be breathing. Want me to detail her current assignments? Tell you if she's in harm's way? Shall I tell her to contact you and check in?"

"Damn if you aren't one cold fish," he retorted before leaning forward with his elbows on his knee guards. "I _could _say something about how curious I am, you putting so much investment in a human and all, but truth is I don't really give a shit. We got bigger problems here and you can't hide behind your little glass crown forever."

Aria finally took a drink, hiding her calculations for a moment before speaking. "The only 'problems' I might have are coming straight from you, Wrex. How about you just take my refusal and fuck off back to your little empire? We can both live happily for whatever lifespan we have left."

The Krogan just looked at her silently for a moment and that quiet calm was more unnerving than loud voices and wild articulation. "I'm here as a courtesy, because of the respect I have for you."

Aria finished for him, lips curled in a sneer, "But you can just take it whenever you want, right? Try it. I think you might find I've got a few surprises."

"I know you're in bed with Tevos and the Council," he explained patiently, "And _you _know that doesn't matter, not way out here. You knew this was coming, Omega-4 just made it happen faster. We're taking Eingana, Aria, whether you like it or not. Then we're going through the relay and all the mercenaries in the galaxy can't stop us. I don't wanna fight you on this. I want you _onboard _."

"And what can you possibly give me that I don't already have?" Aria scoffed with barely hidden disgust.

"Complete autonomy while you live and a percentage of our profits," he replied with a suggestive nod. "We'll use Omega as our base camp but we'll be tenants only, you're the landlord. You'll die as you've lived, the undisputed Queen of Omega; and for once you won't have to worry about anybody taking it from you."

Aria had far too much practice to give away any emotion in her expression but she had to admit that just now she felt powerfully tired. She'd had to take this damnable rock not once but three times, the last from an Elcor hailing from Thunawanuro who fancied himself a liberator while the nebula was isolated from the rest of the galaxy by broken relays. The victory had been swift with the aid of her newly trained security forces, but the very act was humiliating from the start. Sure, what chance was there of her not being able to return to the station and command...ever again? But in the minds of the average merc it was always about your last victory, your latest display of power, and recent events had lowered that bar substantially. She'd spent the majority of her thousand years in this place ruling with an iron fist and it might as well have been six months to the rabble that crowded the asteroid's cracks and crannies now. She'd been fighting a new war for reputation ever since, resorting to bloody and inefficient demonstrations to enforce her view and assert her dominance, a display apparently not necessary for the similarly long-lived Urdnot Wrex.

He paused for a moment, looking at her intently, "Now, I know you. You've probably got a dozen things behind your back you can use to spoil the well. You can hurt me, you can slow me down if that's your choice but it's a fight you can't win and this time I don't think you'll escape the explosion." He could have gloated over the reference but seemed completely earnest. She found herself wanting to kick him in the quad nevertheless. "I want to work with you because I know you'll keep your word. Don't you think it's time we both had some peace?"

Peace. Hah. What she needed was space. She needed room to maneuver, but his offer wasn't a terrible one. Her eyes narrowed with interest, "How much of a percentage?" The Krogan managed to look surprised at her response and she wasn't sure if it was for effect or not. The bastard had real power now so it was probably beneath him to play dumb.

He leaned back against the wall pensively, the weight of his body making the bench groan. "Half a percent," he said.

Aria rolled her eyes, "Get out of my club before I have you thrown out."

"I leave that way and your club will be a crater when I'm done," he retorted with a curled reptilian smile.

Aria wasn't phased. "You're a sorry sack of dreck, Wrex. You think I don't know what you're looking for in there? How much would the Shadow Broker charge you for that tech?"

"Heheh, if the Shadow Broker played ball I wouldn't be here and you wouldn't have the chance to profit from his loss."

Aria laughed and kicked back the Ryncol before speaking. "You know what I think?" She pointed a finger from around the highball as she continued, "I think he gave you a price you couldn't afford. That's what I think. I think "Empire Urdnot" is all out of cash after your recent expansions and you need me to facilitate this bit of archaeology for the 'cause'." Her eyes flashed and she set her glass on the table beside the couch. "Five percent. That's my price."

"Hah!" Wrex exclaimed, "Not unless you want to join this 'little empire' and fight for me, it's not." He leaned forward, an elbow on his knee and his red, beady eyes narrowing aggressively. "You think you can hold this system against all takers with what _you _got? "

"Don't have to," she replied with a sniff, "No one else is crazy enough to go in there."

"Not what I heard." When she didn't answer, he continued. "In fact, I hear there's pretty regular traffic going through that relay. Know anything about that?" His eyes were steady as he drank, watching her carefully.

"That's not your concern and that traffic isn't to be interfered with in any way," she said with a clenched jaw. "Four percent."

His body shook with a laugh that never made it free of his chest, "Tell you what. Because it's you and this is some mighty fine Ryncol, I'll give you one. Two if you give me the secret on how they're surviving passage. Whoever we run into once we're there needs to stay clear of us, though. Salvage rights will be enforced. Vigorously."

Aria took a deep breath, exhaling through her nose before speaking again. "I'll think about it," she said, and there was no room for equivocation in her tone.

"All I ask," Wrex said, standing. "I need to know your answer before I leave system, though."

"Don't dictate terms to me, old man," she snapped despite the creeping fondness she felt for the Krogan leader, "The Council might not be willing to fight you over Eingana but one word from me and you can kiss Tyr goodbye. Remember that."

Wrex laughed as he turned to leave then spoke over his shoulder with a deep approving rumble, "There's my girl."

Aria shook her head once he was gone and walked over to refill her glass with something more palatable. As she was pouring she heard her longtime bodyguard Bray's low voice from the door.

"Boss, Jack is back. Send her up?"

"Already? Hmm." Aria turned to look at the Batarian and gave a slight nod, which turned him around and out, then took a seat on her leather couch with a contemplative sigh.

Wrex was right, she had seen this coming. Being in the Terminus systems used to mean forging your own destiny while the rest of the galaxy squabbled over worlds on the other side of the swirl. When the humans made their grand entrance on the scene and in a few decades managed to settle an area that rivaled Council space in size it opened a lot of eyes and a lot of wallets. That rush to claim territory had been stopped cold by the Reapers, though; the vast majority of colonies destroyed and their territories opened up again to any who could hold it.

Before the Reapers Aria would have guessed the Salarians would be the quickest to expand but everything had changed with the war. With the recognition of the Rachni as a sentient species and the curing of the Krogan genophage the two races quickly took stock of homeworlds devastated before the invasion even began. They had nothing to lose by branching out and the treaties offered by the council gave them latitude to pick a small number of worlds not formally claimed by any of the recognized races as restitution and reward. The Salarians, on the other hand, were the target of censure and with the majority of their fleet missing in action after their failed attempt to conquer Tuchanka were hamstrung in their efforts to participate in the new race for colonization.

To add insult to Salarian injury, both the Krogan and the Rachni elected to settle planets in the Exodus Cluster. The garden planet Terra Nova was already claimed by the Alliance, but Tyr and Loki's living conditions were both within tolerances of their respective species with a bit of terraforming. If it weren't enough that the new alliance between the three races spat in the face of Salarian objectives the Exodus Cluster lay just a single relay jump away from their homeworld, Sur'Kesh; not only posing what they deemed an unacceptable security risk but potentially blocking the shortest route to the rimworlds of the Traverse if conflict ever arose.

It had been a bitter pill to swallow but the Salarians still had teeth. There was no better terraforming technology in the galaxy than theirs and they outright refused to provide it to either race in protest. Wrex's pleas to the Shadow Broker for aid in their endeavors had apparently also come up empty, though Aria knew better than to believe it was about credits. The Salarians might have the lion's share of galactic ire heaped upon them for recent warlike activities but that didn't mean their motives were without merit. No other species in the galaxy could reproduce as quickly as the Rachni and Krogan and there wasn't any debate about how dangerous they could become. In the past the Salarians had pit one against the other to keep them in check but if either of them chose to become a bad actor this time that wouldn't be an option.

No, Aria suspected the Shadow Brokers were withholding that tech for a very simple reason: To slow the Krogan and Rachni down. She hadn't been close enough to the Convergence for the last year to know it for a fact, of course, but she surmised the decision would have been an easy one for Tevos to embrace; it achieved some level of safety against the threat with no one the wiser. It bought the galaxy time but that's why Wrex had come to her doorstep instead. There was no guarantee the Krogan would find any terraforming tech in the unfathomably old shipwrecks at the center of the galaxy but there was every chance they would find far more valuable things they could use for payment or extortion.

She heard Wrex's loud laughter downstairs. He and Jack must've been catching up while she was lost in thought. If it had been any other Krogan asking for the secret of the Omega 4 relay they'd have been escorted out at gunpoint but she and Wrex went way back. He really _was _a beacon of hope for his race, a sane voice that had powerful friends in the Council because he was among the few Krogan that could be trusted not only to consider compromise but make good on his promises. Whether she helped him or not this was likely the end of an independent Omega. There was no logistical or political way to stop the Krogan from spreading to this system and beyond, so she'd have to consider his offer carefully.

Any smile on Jack's face leftover from her talk with Wrex was gone by the time she stormed into Aria's chambers. Well, Aria thought, perhaps 'stormed' was the wrong word. While anger radiated from the woman it wasn't the same aura she had when they first met. It was controlled. Internalized. Banked. With a barely perceptible nod she walked right by where Aria was seated and began to drown her emotions at the bar.

"Trouble in paradise?" Aria taunted, but just shy of enough venom to set the woman off.

"Whattaya you want me to say?" Jack asked between gulps of something purple, "That you were right?"

She smiled at the victory while Jack wasn't looking but smoothed it quickly when she turned. "Right about which part, that you'd get tired of playing step and fetch or that she meant more to you than you ever cared to admit?"

Jack sneered and came to settle her weight on the same couch segment. She sat, legs spread and back bowed, glass hanging from her fingertips while she chewed her bottom lip. "Is this the part where you send a dancer to my room? 'Cause I've got a pre-emptive fuck-you waiting."

Aria shrugged nonchalantly, "I don't care who you take to bed. That's your business."

She could feel the waves of angst coming off the young human in response and it nearly made her eyes roll out of her head. "Jack," she said sternly until the biotic turned to look at her, "Did you break it off with her?"

She could almost hear Jack's teeth grinding with her nod and Aria sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Stupid. Little. Child. You're going to run back to her the first time you get lonely and give her the upper hand."

"Oh shut the.." Jack growled, straightening. "You think I don't see what you're doing? She's not trying to play me, she's just got her head stuck so far up her ass she can smell what she had for breakfast!"

Aria scoffed, widened her eyes in consternation and shook her head, "Keep deluding yourself, kid. I think you're letting your cunt make decisions but hey, what do I know about double-dealing, backstabbing power brokers?" When Jack narrowed her eyes at her she added, "She happen to ask you about current events?"

When Jack stood to pace she laughed and gestured with an open hand. "Behold the towering pillar of strength. I thought you had a handle on this. I thought your relationship was a...a convenience? A way to blow off steam. How concerned should I be at this point?"

Jack's head swiveled and glared. Progress at last. "I'm no snitch," she retorted with barely concealed rage. "Power that shit down.."

Aria didn't move, didn't blink, just stared. Jack stared right back, challenge in her eyes. The human was learning but had a long, long way to go before Aria could trust her judgement. She softened her tone, though; denigrating the woman's pubescent need for connection would only push her farther away from where she needed to be. "You know what? You're right. Miranda Lawson is good at her job. She's good at it because it's all she's ever known, which also means it's what she falls back on whenever she feels threatened. It's what _professionals _do. Are you a professional?"

Jack sniffed and pulled at her face, something she often did when struggling to bring herself under control.

Sometimes Aria wondered if this was worth the effort, but Jack was far more biddable than Shepard ever was and with her tutelage only slightly less effective. Every weapon ever made needed maintenance and this human was no different. "Have you stopped meditating?" Aria asked in a detached voice.

Jack shook her head wearily, "Just haven't yet, today."

"Then you know what you need to do. I've got nothing else for you tonight."

When Jack was nearly at the exit Aria interrupted, "Jack." When the biotic turned and levelled that pained gaze back upon her she continued, "I need you to get your shit together. "

Jack shifted her weight from one hip to the other, her posture just as willing for violence as it ever was. "Point and shoot, boss. Point and shoot."

Jack pondered another lonely night in the darkness of her apartment and dismissed it immediately. It wasn't a terrible place, really; she'd once lived under a dank stairwell for a month after relocating (not running, dammit, not running) from Chasca with 50 screaming pain-cultists on her six. That pisshole sucked about as much as you'd expect. Nah, this place was great, but the red glow that permeated the interior of Omega shone through her windows and reminded her of long Teltin nights. It wasn't the redness that creeped her, it was the memory that the moment the facility came off battery power, when the lights turned sanitary white instead of smoldering red that she'd start wishing death had stolen her away while she slept. Even now she sometimes woke in that dull hellish glow, forgot where she was and her first thought would be, '_ How long 'til morning? _'.

Didn't help that she felt like a scalded puppy after having come back to Miranda begging for scraps and getting a crack in the face for her trouble. Okay crappy metaphors aside she just wasn't gonna stay there tonight. At least if she roamed the station she couldn't doubt she was free; so she only stopped in to drop off her pack and change clothes. _And check my messages, I guess. _Her terminal was chiming politely so she woke it and ran her finger to the one highlighted mail, tapping it before turning away toward the washroom.

She expected it to be Lawson...but heard a guttural laugh instead. "Hey Jack, me and some boys from Aralakh are on station. Not sure if you're around but if you're free, catch us at Crashdown. It's been too long since I put you through a wall." Her disappointment about Miranda's latest diss was suddenly replaced with a wicked smile at the thought of hanging with Grunt and co again.

"Meditation," she said with a chuckle and shrug, "Screw that spew." This would be a much better way to forget.

Looking at herself in the mirror brought another unpleasant reminder in the form of long black hair spilling roughshod over her shredded compression tank and darkly patterned shoulders. She leaned to one side and pulled at a belt hanging from a hook until a knife came free then straightened to consider that weak-ass token of useless affection. In moments she had a full foot cut and dumped in the recycler but before she could start shaving she paused, choosing instead to cut it short and tight. After an additional moment she shaved out one of the tattoos that circled her skull, a reminder of that cult and an expression of pain that no-one but she and the universe would understand. The halo of hair poofed in her reflection but she cured that with some product, slicking it back except for a curl over one side of her forehead. Her dark eyes popped against her pale skin and she nodded in silent approval before wiping the blade and putting it away.

Her hand caught the collar of her high black coat as she passed the chair of her desk and with a whoosh of the door she was out into the acrid smelling mining district. It was a place everybody avoided due to eezo poisoning and that, plus the low rent and relative solitude, made it perfect for her. She took a deep breath, the burn in her lungs a distant thing compared to her first days on Omega. She strode through darkened, cloudy alleys; knowing them as well as the veins on the back of her hand. She passed others, mostly Asari but a few biotics of other races and their nods of recognition earned hers in return. Each one of them had earned a place here in this shithole for long enough to know one another and to know someone here for longer than six months meant you didn't wanna fuck with them. When a person couldn't see your weapons but knew you had them they tended to knuckle a brow unless they had a bone to pick. The gangs picked few bones here. Not enough creds for the risk.

The lights rose, colors began to vary and music started to thrum the closer she got to Five Points. Grunt's message was clear...they could've gone anywhere but came to her and she had to admit that tiny little warm spot she had for the Krogan only got bigger every time they hung.

It'd been a long boring night by herself on the Normandy the first time she made her way to his cargo bay. She'd heard of the weirdo tank monkey being brought onboard and the whispered static about setting it free. Once things settled and Shepard stopped stalking the place she figured she'd size it up herself so in she went. She found it sitting with its back to a corner, knees bent, watching the door...and something about that pose struck her deep as a knife.

It watched her and she watched it. It didn't say anything at all, eyes glowing in the reflected light of the corridor before the door slid shut behind her. There, in the dark, they stayed until they could hear one another breathing. It made Jack's hackles rise and she remembered feeling adrenaline flood all the way to her fingertips but she wasn't gonna be the first to speak. She heard its weight rise, the metal bulkhead behind it giving it away; and she padded around the room letting her eyes adjust while putting her side to it like she would any fear-aggressive varren. It wouldn't make 'em friendly but it would make 'em pause and it seemed to work here, too.

"You're in my space, human. If you are looking for death, you've found it," came its voice, low and threatening.

Jack didn't stop her exploration, though now she could make out the sheer size of the Krogan in her peripheral vision thanks to the soft glow of the pod's control panel.

"If I wanted you dead, you would be," was her growled reply. Then, with genuine curiosity, "What makes _you _so special? Why are you here?"

"I….am Krogan...perfected," it said with confidence and without warning, rushed her.

Later she heard he pulled the same shit with Shepard but unlike _her _Jack wasn't playing a game of hide the pistol. When security finally broke in, rifles leveled, they found them both covered in blood and sporting broken bones, grinning and surrounded by busted equipment. Chakwas was pissed and Shepard flipped her shit but they'd been tight ever since.

Crashdown was especially lively by the time she got there...Aralakh didn't know the meaning of rules. There were three times the number of bouncers and the regulars had checked out except for a few lurking in corners, fingers twitching near their holsters. A quarter of the space was already taken by the place's namesake, a lifepod ejected from the Cerberus cruiser Aria used to take back the station. It'd put a hole through the roof and planted below the floor and was basically the only thing holding the place together so it had never been removed. You couldn't see the liquor-tenders for the number of ten foot bodies crowding the bar and Jack smelled spilled ryncol all the way at the door. Jack just paused, hip cocked and a stupid grin crawling over her face when she heard him shout.

"About time!" he cried, wide shoulders breaking violently between his buddies before he lifted his hands high in greeting. "We're leaving in the morning. Come!" He gestured wildly. "Drink!"

"What, you left some for me?" Jack barked as she approached, "I'm fucking touched!"

Grunt's unique laughter filled the space, "You will never go without as long as I'm around." He smashed a mug against her chest and put his meaty hands around her head before head-butting her…..politely. His reptilian eyes peered down at her despite her new height as he held her there for a moment, then withdrew. "Men! Meet the second fiercest human I ever met!"

"A fact still in dispute!" She shouted back before drinking deep, the liquor spilling down her face and chest as she slurped to their collective laughter. Ahhh...gods the shit burned. She drank until it tortured her stomach before taking a breath. "Next round's on me!" she managed to shout while choking, "To the bravest Krogan in the 'verse!" Their shouts of approval were music to her ears and for a few hours, she was home.

Funny thing about all the upgrades she had done. They made it hard as hell to get drunk, which put her firmly into Krogan territory as far as holding her liquor. She managed to hang 'til morning and earned herself another Krogan badge of courage, trading stories and jokes until about an hour before 'dawn', but the company had been drinking a lot longer than she had and were in various stages of consciousness. In the end it was her and Grunt at a large table, something she finally mentioned.

"You uh," Jack said with a knowing look at the same mug he'd held for at least 3 rounds, "Holding back?"

Grunt grunted and gave a nod, "Gotta look after these pups. Some o'them are as green as pyjack puke."

"So this a rookie run then?" Jack said, gut twisting with memories of fresh faces looking to her for direction.

"Oh they're all blooded," he replied, "Just so fresh they'd never been off Tuchanka. Earned their merits and got hand-picked to escort Wrex for a tour. Big honor, that kind of thing."

Jack nodded, "Wait 'til you're overrun with kids from the next gen. You better train these guys right, you're gonna need some seeerious help."

"That's only the beginning of my problems, heh heh heh."

Jack saw the odd glint in his eye as he chortled, "Wait a minute….is that a 'I got a ladyfriend' look on your face?"

"Got two," he confirmed with a rise of his chin, such as it was, "And they don't even fight about it."

"Holy shit, _two _? How many krogan you have to gut to make that happen?"

Grunt looked around at the still forms of his squad before lowering his voice, "Only one. Was my second's mate at the time. I didn't start anything, either," he growled, "He said he couldn't stomach the thought of a tank-bred breathing much less breeding... so I relieved him of that burden."

Jack snickered. "So the sucker mouths off to the leader of Aralakh company? Hah! I think I know which one shouldn't be breeding." Then she shook her head in disgust. "How many times you think yer gonna have to prove yourself, man?"

"As long as Krogan have quads," he replied with thunder-like finality, "And I'm okay with it. I need to make an example every once in awhile anyway, might as well have them come to me."

Jack considered her friend for a moment then struck his mug with hers, "Ya done pretty well for a fucking toddler, you know that?"

Grunt grinned and finally upended his drink. Jack started to do the same but before it touched her lips the room shook. She set down her mug, trying to focus her bleary vision when it shook a second time and then a third, the last so much stronger it moved everything in the bar and nearly knocked over their chairs. They were both on their feet in an instant, Grunt kicking anyone not already rising, and Jack pulled up her Omni to check in. She was interrupted by the flicker of Aria's face appearing and she didn't look happy.

"Get to Afterlife. Now."

"Sure, but…what's going on?"

The Asari's eyes narrowed irritably at having to explain herself, but she took a breath and gave a single sentence before disconnecting. "Wrex's flagship just exploded."


	4. Chapter 4

"So the question is," Shepard mused from her podium above the 62 seated soldiers and their closest family and friends, "Why were you the ones to make it through the hurdles and trials put before you? How were you able to persist despite the odds?"

"It's a question I've gotten a lot," she joked with a mischievous grin before being answered with scattered laughter, "But it's a question that will stay with you long after the press has gone home and it's a question you'll hear more and more as you progress, because this isn't the end of the road for you, as you know. It's just the beginning."

Her eyes couldn't help but drift to where Ashley sat with her husband of two years and one of the honored graduates tonight. The words were for everyone but they would understand them more than most, perhaps more than anyone here. "Why'd I make it?" she said again, suddenly somber. Ashley's earnest gaze was pained but clear of tears...she'd come a long, long way since that fateful day on Virmire. Shepard's eyes leapt to James' after and his head was lifted proudly. He'd found peace with his past, too.

"Situations like these are rarely simple and never ever fair. Someday you might be told to march into hell and die for the cause and that's the plain truth. On that day the reason you will stand victorious when no-one else could is because you thrive in chaos. You've been trained by the best; you serve with the best and by god when you go head to head with something that tests your resolve…."

Shepard looked around at the confident, triumphant faces of the class of 2191 and addressed them directly. "You will rise to that challenge because you know _who you are _. You know without a moment's reflection what you were born to do. Analyze. Act. Repeat."

She paused again for effect, then pointed a fingertip at the surface before her and pressed down hard twice for emphasis while she spoke, "And what you'll do between this day and that final day, what you'll do better than anyone else ready to give their lives for others is build relationships. We aren't just soldiers, ladies and gentlemen. We aren't just the finest warriors in Alliance space. We make everyone around us _better _."

She was drowned in applause and nodded slowly as it began to calm. Even when it had, she waited another moment and took a sip of water from a glass on the dias, her eyes turned inward before continuing. "The teamwork we foster isn't motivated by money, power or fame. It's an expression of our purest selves for no other purpose than the intrinsic goals we share. It's _autotelic _. When we encounter adversity we strive and never ever yield and once we get into that zone time seems to stop while we become... _unstoppable _. There's no room for ego, and everything else falls away until only the objective remains."

It was all so clear to her, in this moment, the memories rising and falling like waves on the sea. She could feel the synergy she shared with the various denizens of the Normandy through all their travels; knew them all as well as she knew herself while they knew her just as keenly. Their thoughts and weapons fired as one.

"When you look back on those experiences they fill your heart and soul," she murmured, swallowing the emotion that tightened her throat. "They will become the most important, most meaningful moments in your life and you will want to...will _need _to experience them again and again. It is only through this...synchronicity with others that you can be actualized...that you can be everything you were meant to be."

She cleared her throat, thick with love and pride. "So revel in what you've built here in ICT. Embrace your brothers and sisters and remember the victory you've achieved by holding each other up. Congratulations, graduates." Shepard stood at attention away from the microphone and raised her voice, "WHO'S LIKE US?!"

The soldiers shouted in unison to the confusion of their family and friends, "DAMN FEW! AND THEY'RE ALL DEAD!"

"So…" Shepard said through a chest heaving chuckle to the group of soldiers, "I come out of the elevator and hear Lieutenant Cortez saying, 'There's only one gun you manage to keep clean, Mister Vega.'"

The laughter was loud and long and James choked on his beer, a red blush spreading across his deeply tanned face. Once he quit coughing and wiped his face with the back of a meaty hand he protested, "He said 'weapon', not 'gun'!"

"Um, honey, that's….not a great counter," Ashley Williams-Vega chuckled with a grin, chin in one hand.

"He was talking about my physique! About how I maintain my physique! Not my…" Vega shouted, still choking as the dozen or so people gathered round guffawed. He eventually just sighed and shook his head, covered his eyes with his hand and muttered, "Madre de dios…"

It was a beautiful night, the full moon illuminating clouds that shredded the sky in bands. Warm summer breezes tossed the tops of tropical palms that surrounded Steve Hackett's large outdoor patio. He'd opened up his rental to the graduating class and dozens of people milled both inside and outside the house barely a mile from the bay in Rio. About twenty people, all told, gravitated around Shepard and the Vegas at any one time, their reputation already revered amongst the assembly.

Shepard clapped James on the shoulder to make him feel better then stood to get a refill. After she left, another voice made him open his eyes.

"You don't have to take that shit lying down, you know." It was Turner, of course. The tall, nano-enhanced soldier with ebony skin and hair the color of snow reclined against a post, her chair on its rear two legs and her face split with a trademark smirk. It was rumored her hair turned that color during the war but no one knew for certain. "Come on, tell us something juicy...she can't be _that _perfect."

Before James could object he found himself engulfed in encouragement from his buddies. He felt more than saw the warning look coming from his wife but couldn't argue with his sister-in-arms. It was important they saw Shepard for who she was and not the icon for recruitment they'd been fed. After all, they were destined to follow in her footsteps, a task made more difficult with awe tripping them up.

"Well, there _was _this one time," he said, pulling his thumb and forefinger down around his mouth as he mused. In seconds he had everyone's rapt attention and sat back, pulling his massive arms over the back of his chair to cradle his head. "I was guarding her while she was under house arrest on Arcturus Station. She'd been pent up for like…. two months and it was killing her to stand around when she _knew _the Reapers were on the way. Woulda been enough to make anyone loco but she'd kept her cool so far." James grinned and shook his head, remembering. "Least 'till she got that care-package from Feros."

More of his peers were slowing by the crowd now as he spoke and James saw Shepard returning with another drink in her hand. Their eyes met and he expected her to stop him, protest, something; but she just stood near the back and took a sip, eyes crinkling in mirth.

He felt better about it at that point and kept going, pulling his arms back down so he could use his hands to help tell the story. "I mean you gotta know everything that got to her was screened like a hundred times looking for something she could use to get the drop on us or whatev but after awhile I think we all started feeling a little sorry for her."

"Anyway!" he said as he saw some eyes begin to wander, "She gets this care-package, right? And in it is this huge bottle of liquor that the folks in security cleared for her. I don't even remember what it was but it was sort of orange-colored and came with a note that made her smile. When I came back on for late shift that night I wasn't there thirty minutes before I heard the," James started laughing despite himself, "the _strangest _sounds coming out of her cell."

"Oh boy," Shepard groaned from behind everyone and heads turned to chuckle before he continued.

James laughed again, "So I peek in, right? And what do I see? I see Commander freaking Shepard jumping around like a kid, straight up caterwauling that song that was big at the time...oh shit, what was it?" He snapped his fingers when it came to him, "Backwater Paradise!"

Now the groans came from everyone in the crowd. It'd been the worst that pop could produce, all cliches and rebel sentiment...and was a huge hit in colonies from the traverse. "And she was singing loud and proud, compadres, loud and proud," he continued, "Problem was, she couldn't hit a note to save her _life _!"

"Might have had something to do with the earbuds. You know, in my ears?" Shepard muttered saucily in response to the chuckles around her.

"Haha! More likely it had something to do with that _empty bottle! _I've never seen someone jerk around like that outside an epileptic spasm."

They all started laughing then and Shepard just shrugged with her own grin, "I was just trying to get a buzz going and went a little overboard."

Lieutenant Turner balanced her weight forward on the chair, then back again so the headrest met the post behind it with an audible clack. When that drew attention to her again she spoke in a conversational voice, "Shit taste in music. Check." Her eyes went back to Shepard's and there was a glint there that James couldn't quite place. "Whatcha listen to now that you're good and bored? Find anything worthy or you sticking with the 'classics'?"

A quizzical look passed over Shep's face and she skipped the Lieutenant's last question entirely despite the others' amused interest. "Who says I'm bored?" she asked with eyes suddenly sharp.

It wasn't like Shep to get defensive so seeing it was a surprise. Made him feel like he needed to shut everyone and everything down, pronto; an instinct in his guts he shut down ruthlessly instead because, _Shepard. _

"Everything about you," Turner said with confidence at her reaction, "Especially that speech. Hasn't been five years yet but sounds like you wish you could be back in the war jus'ta feel somethin."

The crowd quieted with a couple of low curses and even James could feel the pressure of the gazes on Shepard now. He gripped the arms of his chair to stand but those green eyes speared him in place with a glance before returning to Turner.

Shepard's back straightened and her hands automatically folded behind her in a stance James recognized immediately from his time on the Normandy. Her face didn't give away any hint of emotion. "If that's your takeaway I'd say you missed the point, Lieutenant," she said quietly.

Quiet wasn't good and there was no missing Turner's lazy smile; the one she usually wore before…

"Show some respect, soldier," came a voice instantly recognized by every man and woman in the room. It was a voice they heard only in the best and very worst parts of the war...a disembodied voice of calm command that held together every disparate piece of the Alliance Navy when it should have crumbled under the otherworldly onslaught of the Reapers.

Steven Hackett slid up beside Shepard and took a demonstrative puff off a cigar just to make sure he had everyone's undivided attention. "You wanna talk about her music choices, you have at it. You wanna take a shot at her honor you're going to have a very big problem."

Turner looked around her and Vega guessed she didn't like what she saw in her brothers' and sisters' faces. The smile came back, of course, but she tilted her head and with her palms up said, "No disrespect, sir. We've all heard the stories. Just wanted to see what she was made of, that's all."

Shepard's expression relaxed and she looked sideways at Hackett meaningfully before crossing her arms and shifting her weight to the foot nearest him. "Well hell, why didn't you just say so?" She killed her drink and handed it to Steven before starting to shrug out of her blazer. When Turner didn't respond, Shepard paused and put on a confused look. "What, you don't wanna find out?"

Turner grinned wolfishly and stood, her expression suddenly bright. "Might be my only chance, what with you gettin' all long in the tooth." The soldier stood almost a head taller than Shepard and she was lean and muscular. There was no prime like the prime of an N7 graduate and she clearly knew it.

The Lieutenant had always been a bit of a hot-head, eager to prove her mettle but no dunce when it came to tactics. She'd seen a great deal of action with the resistance on Earth despite barely being an adult at the time, but grit only went so far against the Reapers and she'd been gifted the ugly end of it. It'd been a miracle she survived if the tales were true, but that same determination carried her immediately into the service once she recovered; her capabilities returned fivefold through the cyber-replacement program pioneered by Shepard herself. Before long she'd settled in as a scout sniper, one of the most demanding and unforgiving MOS's in existence, then thrived there with a combination of instinct and talent that carried her quickly into N-series training. In a way she reminded James of a young Shepard, but he wondered if this little flexing contest hadn't gone too far. It was one thing to bring Shep down off a pedestal for his class' benefit; it was another to be dethroned entirely. His sidelong glance to Ashley seemed to confirm his thoughts, her eyes were widened and cautious. Did she think Shepard might actually lose?

The now large group of people began to clear a space until Hackett leaned in close to the red-head. He heard nothing but whispers but saw Shepard nod agreeably before he made his intentions clear by raising his hands and his voice. "Not in the rental, folks. Let's take this friendly challenge to the Villa. Anyone not interested is free to stay here and relax."

As everyone turned to leave, murmuring excitedly, Hackett added, "And Shepard!"

When she turned to listen, he continued with a wink, "Don't hurt the kid too bad."

"I just don't understand how you think this is a good idea," Ashley warned while weaving through traffic. She looked back over her shoulder briefly at Shepard in the back, then turned her eyes forward again. "You win, you look like a bully. You lose, you look like a has-been."

Shepard scooted forward and poked her head between the front seats, watching the skycars go by. "If I recall correctly, she called _me _out, so I can't be a bully. And who cares if I lose? I don't know any of us with reporters on speed-dial but even if they did...so what? I doubt my speaking schedule'd even slow down."

"Nobody's gonna go to the press," James agreed, "But I still dunno what you're thinking, Lola. What's your angle?"

Shepard shrugged, "Look, there's nothing mysterious about it, guys. I haven't fought anyone else with this level of enhancements before. Everyone talks about me like I'm some sort of super-soldier but let's be honest, a lot of it was probably the Lazarus implants. I just wanna know how much."

"You've got nothing to prove to anyone," Ashley protested, "You were just as effective in combat when we first met. You came out of the Blitz alive before you even met Cerberus, for God's sake. Question answered."

James didn't look convinced, but he also looked like he didn't wanna contradict his wife. "I dunno babe, she and I sparred on the SR-2 before we dropped you off at the Citadel and I remember her hittin' me like a ton of bricks. Don't get me wrong, you'll always be my Sexy Spectre Superhero, but I've never been hit that hard by a woman in my life." Then he looked back at Shepard, "Until Turner, anyway. She's more 'netics than meat, chiqueta."

"And you haven't been active in years," chimed Ashley with concern. "She's gonna be at her best."

Shepard didn't know whether to be touched or alarmed that the pair were so earnestly trying to dissuade her from a simple sparring session. "And _I've _still got all my upgrades," she insisted. "Look, it's not like either one of us is gonna die from a few punches, right? Relax!" She smiled lazily and put her hands around both of their shoulders...giving them a shake. "This'll be fun!"

She felt good about her chances as they hopped out of the skycar to find themselves surrounded by a bunch of intoxicated, cheerful graduates. None of them knew she stayed active in the simulators, it was something she'd kept just for herself to keep her wits sharp and her endurance long. Truth be told, she'd been itching for a sparring partner she couldn't really hurt. This would do nicely.

They'd started tentatively, both of them circling and testing one another. They were all smiles around their mouthguards, reveling in the shouts of encouragement and building adrenaline. Turner was quicker than most simply because she was so slender; it was less mass to move with every strike but each hit had the full power of engineered muscle and bone behind it. Shepard found her own punches landing short and had to turn Turner's fists away often, something she attributed to being out of practice until she committed to her first cross.

It was the punch to the throat that finally opened her eyes.

Shepard backpedaled and struggled to drag in a breath, trying to understand just what had happened. Turner's jab had missed and she'd closed into range. Shepard's right had come in on target but Turner's head bobbed quick enough that her fist slid by her left ear. That left her exposed, Shepard's own left hand guarding against a jab from her opponent, not a well paced and devastating cross of her own. It landed in that sensitive spot just between windpipe and jugular that somehow managed to crush both and the dip in blood pressure to her oxygen-craving brain now found no help from her lungs to compensate. It left her scrambling, the brief moment she'd been allowed to evaluate the damage gone before Turner was all over her.

She'd known this was gonna hurt even before she stepped foot in the ring but underestimated just how 's fists felt like blocks of granite, each blow to the body physically moving her around like a punching bag when she'd normally have shrugged them off and gone on offense. Now she found herself moving only backward, her biggest achievement at this point that she hadn't lost her footing but as the attacks rained down on her she began to feel time begin to slow as her own adrenaline caught up; her tempo beginning to match the woman's blinding pace until she finally started feeling her arms pummeled instead of her ribs and stomach.

She was momentarily elated but knew that once Turner realized her guard was up she was going to change tactics. It wasn't so much a thought process as instinct at this point, but her opponent was clearly taking advantage of the stagger and was hoping for a quick finish. If you can't hit high, you hit low and she _felt _the leg sweep coming before the soldier even began the turn. Her body took over at that point, a front kick with all the force she could muster landing squarely in the small of Turner's back to send her sprawling to the deck.

Her throat still throbbed and even swallowing hurt, the blow to her windpipe making her voice rough and coarse. "Not bad!" She croaked above the shouting of the spectators surrounding the mats. She beckoned with her hands to the woman who was looking up at her now with a bit more respect, then barked, "Get up." As the blonde stood and brought up her guard there was a sparkle in her eyes and Shepard knew precisely why. It'd been a long time, these four plus years, since she'd felt the thrill of a real fight. It was good, down deep in her bones good; and she realized dimly that the need for it would never really go away. It was a part of her, a part of them both.

Shepard was still a bit lethargic when they started up again. Nobody in the simulators could match Turner's speed or precision but Shepard began to push herself and before long was blocking and countering well. The room seemed to fade away along with all the faces and voices until it was the two of them alone, their universe centered around the movements of their bodies, the thrill of success and the pain of failure.

Damn she was good. Turner's reach was her biggest advantage and Shepard was constantly having to maneuver around that iron plated jab. It didn't take long to realize just how much of a beating she was taking, the taste of blood followed by the tingle in her flesh that spoke of the nanites doing their job to repair her. There was crimson on Turner's gloves, too, and she realized she needed to change arenas if she wanted a chance to win this thing.

The next time her opponent sent her knuckles toward her nose, Shepard turned into it and dodged, grabbing the soldier's arm with both hands as it passed. She sent her right elbow into Turner's face to put her further off balance while she spun to pull the woman's weight across her right hip. She felt Turner's body come off the floor as expected but was startled to see her plant one of her feet like a cat in front of her instead of fall to the ground. Shepard immediately went for a guillotine before she could lift her head but as soon as her grip loosened on Turner's arm she felt the woman's own grip ensnaring her by the elbow and they began to grapple in earnest.

Before either of them went to the mat though, there was a whistle blown three times from the entryway. As one, the graduates turned to see who had entered, the arena getting suddenly quiet. Both she and Turner rose, looking towards the door before looking at one another again. They straightened, breathing heavy and grinning at one another amicably; then Turner pointed at a place on her own face, above her right brow, and whispered, "You gotta bit of something there," before winking and turning her head toward the whistle.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" Came the unmistakable shout of a drill instructor over all their heads and echoing off the walls. "As of right now, all leaves are cancelled!"

While there were a few groans, overall the crowd was quiet and attentive. Meanwhile, Shepard stripped off her left glove and brought fingers up to a sore and throbbing spot above her eye. It came back bloody and she shook her head in consternation. She'd have to do better next time.

"You are to report to your respective CO's office at 23 hundred for briefing! That is all!"

As whispers and soft conversation began, Shepard turned to Turner again and they met gloves with enthusiasm. Shepard dropped her mouthpiece into her hand and smirked after licking her lips, "Well that was educational."

Turner's chuckle was rich and deep. "What, the announcement or the ass-kicking?"

Shepard laughed at the barb. "Both. It's weird, my first thought was, 'Shit, who's my CO again?'"

"Must be nice," she groaned in response. "If it helps, every time someone asks me what I want to be when I grow up, I say, 'Retired'?"

They both snickered and Shepard looked appropriately dubious before replying sincerely, "It's _everything _it's cracked up to be." Then it was her turn to wink. "Nice meeting you, Lieutenant. Good fight. Stay safe out there."

"You too, Shepard. Take care," she said before moving off to strip her gloves.

Fortunately Shepard had someone who could answer all her questions and sought Ashley out immediately, finding her in close conversation with Vega. She stood outside their space for a moment, letting them say their goodbyes.

Ashley caressed the side of Vega's face with a palm and their eyes were loving and sad at the same time. James stepped into her arms while his own encircled her to pull her close and their kiss was slow and full of promise. If she didn't miss her guess they probably just had plans cancelled. Ahh...military life.

When they parted, James turned and held out a hand which Shepard took fondly. "Well, off you go," she said in a low voice, "You ready for this?"

"Better be," he said with certainty. "Listen, I wanna thank you for everything you've done for me. You might not've been the one that submitted the initial rec but otherwise you're the biggest reason I'm standing here. I won't let you down."

"Yeah well, go be a big damn hero," she returned after a moment, flustered with pride. They embraced roughly, then James nodded to them both and headed out.

Now that they were in the back and separated from the crowd streaming through the double doors Shepard whispered out the side of her mouth, "Any idea what's going on?"

"Nope," Ashley whispered back. "Get changed. Then let's get to the car and see what we can see."

While Ashley connected to the Spectre database Shepard powered up her Omni to find a missed contact from Liara. It might have just been a coincidence but the hairs standing on the back of her neck said otherwise. Her fears were confirmed by the asari's expression when she appeared after a callback.

"Shepard," she said with a half-hearted attempt at a normal tone, "I am glad you are still…"

"Awake? Sober?" she quipped with a smirk, "Yep, you called a half hour too soon to see me at my worst."

Meanwhile Liara had tilted her head, eyes fixed on something above Shepard's eyes, "Are you….alright?"

Her free hand went involuntarily to the cut above her brow and she cleared her throat before lowering it again. Her mouth worked before she shook her head and grinned self-consciously. "And here you were thinking I was gonna get hit on. Turns out I did! Don't worry honey, just passing the torch, remember?"

Liara's mouth formed a silent 'Ah' before her eyes flicked down to her hands. Bad news, the behavior said, so Shepard made it easy for her. "What's going on? We know there's trouble, we just don't know what."

Her wife's eyes rose to meet hers across oceans of space and for just a moment she saw her pain before it submerged into the Shadow Broker. "The Crakador has been destroyed in Omega space."

The Crakador was the Krogan flagship, she recalled. She blinked as she put it together but Liara was already speaking, already breaking her mood and so very much of the world at the same time.

"My reports say that Urdnot Wrex was aboard."

She looked over at Ashley and saw the woman's jaw clenched and her lips pale and tight. The Spectre nodded once in affirmation but said nothing...and for several long moments the car was quiet while shock had its way with them.

"Who..." Shepard managed to say before grief gripped her by the throat.

Liara understood the cryptic, incomplete question and took a breath before answering, "It appears he was betrayed by one of his own. It was a Krogan ship, the Artac, that attacked. It was destroyed shortly after by the rest of Wrex's entourage."

The enormity of what this meant for the galaxy was overwhelming, so she pushed it away with a sad exhaled curse.

"I am...so sorry, love," Liara said tenderly.

Williams finally broke her silence, "That explains the Alliance recall. A Krogan Civil War is gonna create havoc everywhere."

Shepard spoke over the link again, "Does Bakara know?"

"Yes," Liara said softly, "Urdnot Grunt has taken command of the remainder of Wrex's squadron and is returning to Tuchanka. I would assume they are making preparations for war."

"If I know her, she's got contingencies in place for this. She knew it was a risk." Shepard cleared her throat and looked again to the Spectre. "And I assume you've gotta get moving. Drop me off at the spaceport?"

Ashley nodded and started the skycar while Shepard spoke to her Omni again. "Can you put together our condolences to Bakara? She's gonna be way too busy to talk right now. I'll reach out to Grunt."

"Of course," she agreed. "I am putting together all the information I have on who might be responsible. Ashley, I will forward you a copy." At Shepard's nod, she added softly, "Will you be going to Tuchanka, then?"

The question went far deeper than that, she knew, a question easily read in Liara's eyes. Of _course _she wanted to get involved; this was more than politics, it was _personal _.

"No," she said firmly. "I'm coming home." She looked to her left and saw the same anger and determination in Ashley's face that thrummed in her own pounding heart.

"Don't worry, Liara," Ashley offered as she entered traffic once more, "He was one of us. I'm all over this and I'll let you know if I need anything. In the meantime, you two should go and start your family. If there's anyone who would understand the importance of that, it was Wrex."

It was the right decision, Shepard knew without hesitation. So why did it feel so damn wrong?


	5. Chapter 5

"Come on, take the shot," Liara murmured with an expression that wavered between triumph and sweet regret.

Private data of the most valuable kind streamed across her hovering monitors, the pauses in Ausiphea's communication with her financiers underlining her reticence to commit to the hostile takeover. The Matriarch had no idea she was being monitored; a game of cat and mouse that had once caused Liara no end of apprehension but was now, after the infiltration of hundreds of Asari as or more powerful than she, as routine as the cup of tea on her desk.

The prize over which she and Ausiphea struggled was a small but promising quantum communication peripherals company Liara had acquired two years prior but with this day in mind. The board and R&D department had been groomed and hand picked by her agents, all but ensuring her unmitigated freedom to exploit the technology for the purposes of espionage.

Queries to her sources told her nothing she didn't already know about the delay. From the Matriarch's perspective this deal wasn't just about future technology, it was a death blow to House T'Soni and likely why she hesitated. No matter how favorable the numbers might be this was a sea change in history and Ausiphea wasn't the type of person to revel in another's misfortune. It was charming, really.

Ultimately, however, the Matriarch gave the green light. When it was done, Liara waved that set of connections closed and lifted her lukewarm cup to her lips. When it was empty she shifted her the curves of her ponderous misshapen midsection against the opposite side of the chair and stretched. She was free.

It felt right in all the wrong ways and she felt a bit guilty for celebrating anything in light of recent events, but there was no mistaking the lightness of her spirit at the completion of this part of her task. She would still play a subordinate role in all of the companies and political coalitions in which she held a recognized interest, of course, but her family name would be on far fewer lips moving forward, fading into the background much like the white noise coming from her left on feed seven.

Free. Free to pursue the life as a mother she had dreamed about. Well, she admitted to herself as an escalation from MarsGene demanded attention, at least part of the time. She pinged Miranda's queue and waited for a response but one didn't come. Odd that. Miranda typically handled their requests.

"Glyph, has Miranda returned from vacation yet?"

"No, Doctor T'Soni," said the VI's disembodied voice. "Miranda Lawson's status is set to 'Out of Office'. She is expected back in two days, seven hours and 47 minutes."

Liara resolved not to disturb her with work and nodded to herself. "It's late. Send MarsGene's latest to Feron for triage. I'll look in on it in the morning."

"Of course, Doctor T'Soni. Entering night mode. Rest well."

With the dying of the effervescent monitors the room filled with ghostly twilight, periodically brightened by the rise and fall of status lights from her equipment.

Liara's mind wandered as it often did at this hour, lulled by the sound of distant waves in the dark that crept over, around and through the cavernous house she'd called home for more than a hundred years. That is, when she hadn't cursed the place or the woman that lived here long before she; the same woman whose memory lingered in her thoughts like the perfume of summer flowers on this night and almost every night after she had chosen to bear offspring.

She wondered if Benezia's spirit lived on and if so, where it had gone? If there had been any inclination for religious belief clinging to her rigorously skeptical soul it fled after a single conversation with Javik, the last living Asari 'god'. As much as Liara wanted to hate him for every hurtful word uttered during the brief time she knew him, the truth was that she mourned him alongside her faded, ethereal innocence. So as jaded as she felt, why did she persistently feel her mother's presence in these moments? Perhaps it was the hormones flooding her body that manufactured the sensation of soft arms enfolding her and warm whispers of reassurance against her crest; or simply a deep-seated need for solace and certainty in the face of the changes in her life that would surely come with Athena's arrival. Whatever it was, Liara refused to shut the feelings away, clinging to them with quiet stubbornness and a need that had been shamefully neglected while its cure lay within simple reach.

It wasn't the first, nor would it be the last time the thoughts had circled in her mind unanswered. These late reflections had become, if she were honest with herself, a ritual that gave arguable excuse to stay awake and linger over the day's business. Athena stirred in silent rebuke then and Liara smiled at what might be their first real disagreement. Her hands slid down over her abdomen and she whispered, "The voice of your father from you already, hmm?"

There was a click from behind where she sat and the warm light of a thousand year old lamp lit the pale corners of Liara's office. As she started to turn in her chair the sound was followed by the thump and slide of a duffel against the stone floor before the voice for which she had been waiting filled the room.

"She's telling you to go to sleep, isn't she?" Shepard grinned while stepping to where she rose ponderously from her seat. "Guess she's got your brains," she murmured as they embraced before adding with a smirk, "And my common sense."

Liara made a face, eliciting a chuckle from her bondmate before they kissed softly. "This from someone who couldn't put a night of sleep together in ten," she chided in return.

Shepard shrugged as her hands slid down Liara's arms and breathed, "Those days are over."

Liara didn't need the meld to recognize the tension in her stance or the sharpness in her eyes that had, for the last few years now, been easy to soften.

"I know you are upset by what has happened," Liara said tenderly, "Do you want to go to Tuchanka, after all?"

Her lover's jaw clenched and released but she never looked away, eyes still scalpel sharp. "No, I don't. I've waited years for this moment. I want to be right here, with you, when Athena comes."

Liara considered her quietly, then she said, "You're taut as a spring. You know I won't judge you for your feelings, we've come too far for that. Talk to me, Jordan."

The name she so rarely used had the desired effect which was to turn Shepard's focus inward. She was strong in so many ways but they were muscles designed to effect change outside herself, a wall built to avoid looking at the wreckage of who she had been within. That wall had now been reshapen, buttressed where its failure could cause damage and lowered to allow reflection else.

Shepard dropped her eyes as if they were bore the weight of the world and sighed, "Grunt's disappointed I'm not coming to mediate. He's hurting pretty bad."

If there was anything Liara knew about Grunt it was that 'disappointed' was not a category of his emotional spectrum. It was far more likely he reacted as any child would when a parent delayed the address of their need, which is to say with anger, and Shepard would take that reaction as badly as any parent who feels they are failing, which is to say...with guilt. It wasn't her fault Grunt looked to her for such a bond, the one who had seen him born and given him purpose, having no one else except the Krogan who had given him a name and a place with his people before tragically dying to look to for guidance; but the end result was the same….Shepard had been forced to choose and by that choice someone would suffer.

Liara took Shepard by the hand and began to waddle out the door towards their bedroom at the end of the hall. "His world has been shaken and he needs support from someone he trusts. We'll arrange a visit as soon as we can." She took a slow step before adding, "I've also sent everything I could find on Clan Dulak to Ashley. I'm certain she'll help the Krogan find the justice they need."

Shepard simply nodded without speaking, her hand sliding down to support the small of her back as they walked, and Liara sighed with more than just relief. The sorrow etched on Shepard's features cut her to the quick, bringing memories of the Wrex to the fore of her mind like the hot winds that cut endlessly across his ruined homeworld.

"I will….miss him," she said after a moment and two belabored steps before turning her gaze upon Shepard's aspect again. "I will miss his gruff advice, even his rage."

"The sound of his boots on deck," Shepard murmured nostalgically. "The way he'd laugh in a fight. He was one of a kind. A true friend." Her eyes slid shut then opened a crack, though Liara guessed she was seeing somewhere else just then...or somewhen. "He changed his world and his people. Who could ever hope to replace him?"

Liara shook her head as they crossed the threshold of their room. "I don't know. One of his allies, no doubt, but while Wrex changed many of his people's traditions, I do not believe succession was one of them."

"Yeah," Shepard agreed, "Hard to inspire confidence in your abilities if your first priority is arranging your replacement." Her eyes narrowed as a thought occurred, "He's got kids though, wouldn't one of them take over?"

Liara began the long process of getting undressed while Shepard turned down their bed. "There isn't much information available about their rituals but if memory serves, a new leader is chosen through some kind of competition. A child would not fare well in those conditions, I think."

Shepard snorted, "Especially if there's a thresher maw involved."

When their eyes met their voices immediately chimed together, "And there's _always _a thresher maw involved!"

They chuckled fondly even if the sound's edges were tarnished with grief. A moment later, Shepard's green eyes had fixed on the expanse of Liara's iridescent skin as it was revealed. It made Liara preen that her lover could still look at her with such unbidden fascination and she was doubly, triply glad she'd taken Miranda's advice and had nano-treatment to regenerate skin badly treated by the war and its aftermath. Shepard's expression softened with love and pride especially at the sight of her swollen abdomen but suddenly Liara could no longer see her face as the fabric of her tunic caught over both her elbows and in front of her eyes.

"Need some help?" Came the cautious question, burnt one too many times by intruding in a moment of hormonal, bloated and ugly pique.

She was on the verge of sighing in defeat when she felt warm fingers slide over her skin, nerves singing in response like piano keys. In moments she was extricated from her prison and eye to eye with Shepard, whose face was lit with tenderness. Liara felt badly about previous bouts of temper just then and cupped her cheek before whispering, "My hero."

She saw the words transform her lover's expression into one she saw often, the puffed-up cocksure one that sported crooked grins. It didn't stay long this time though, sincerity smoothing it over.

"You're as beautiful as the first day we met," she said and in Liara's mind they were suddenly there, the light of ancient technology spilling over the innards of a broken mountain. Shepard's eyes had been shocked at the sight of her like she'd been dipped in ice water and Liara recalled the lengthy pause before she spoke at all.

That face had etched itself in her brain, keeping her warm through the many cold days to come, but the memory of it now left her wanting for something….missing. Liara lifted a thumb and slid its pad over the length and shape of Shepard's left eyebrow. When the other brow lifted questioningly Liara smiled.

"I'm glad you think so, and while I am pleased I had all that scarring removed…." she chewed her lower lip _just so _in the way she usually did when about to ask for something and took pleasure in seeing Shepard smirk, "I was wondering."

"What about?" she asked archly.

"Do you suppose you would consider _adding _one?"

That was worthy of a two brow lift, confusion settling in soon after. "Who, me?"

"Yes, you. I remember everything about that day on Therum and especially you. You had a scar...here," she said with another brush of her thumb. "Do you remember?"

Her eyes unfocused for a moment before returning to her own and she said softly, "I remember," waiting for a whole moment before putting on another insufferable _I'm-the-greatest _look. "I guess Garrus was right, chicks do dig scars."

Liara couldn't spend long on her feet these days and felt the weight on them now. As if to agree, Athena moved sharply within, the kick leaving a lingering pain low in her abdomen. Her breath caught and Shepard's humor dimmed. "How did you get it?" Liara asked before sliding out of Shepard's arms and moving toward the bed. "I don't think you ever told me."

Strong arms wrapped around her to assist and gently lowered her into Liara's normal sleeping 'hole', the blankets and pillows set in wilder and wilder configurations over time for her comfort if there was such a thing this far along. Once she was settled it was Shepard's turn to undress, which never failed to distract and kept to promise now.

"Wish I had a tall tale for it but no," Shepard said with a shake of autumn hair and a kick until a boot fell to the floor. "Well, the tree was tall, actually, so I guess that counts." And there was that grin again before it ducked beneath the rise of her shirt, exposing a toned, muscle rippled midsection that begged to be…

"Happened when I was a kid," she began, voice muffled, "Papa and his brothers took us all down to the…"

But Liara had lost track watching the planes and contours of Shepard's body take shape against the dim light of the side lamp. There were many reasons she was ready to have this pregnancy finished, good and noble reasons filled with love and affection but this...this wasn't one of them. Oh how she missed a good, vigorous…

"Why, Dr. T'Soni, what big eyes you have."

The incongruity of the words through her fogged brain snapped her back to the steady stare of her lover, head propped with one hand and elbow on the pillow beside her.

Liara shrugged with a look that apologized even if she wasn't sorry at all, just resoundingly uncomfortable and in need of distraction. Shepard took that as a cue to slide closer, reaching out with gentle fingers to stroke the side of her face, down her throat and over a shoulder. Goosebumps rose in their wake and the sensation was indescribably comforting. Shepard always knew just what to do.

"To answer your question, I don't see why not. I'll ask Miranda in the morning. Until then?"

"Until then?" Liara repeated, snake charmed.

Shepard's lips answered, but without words; followed by skin then fingers followed by a touch of teeth and ohh Goddess yes. When she joined her in the meld, Liara assaulted her with everything she couldn't possibly do to her in the physical world and Shepard greatly approved. Afterward they lingered in the meld together, sleepy but still raw enough from the day's events to turn one moment of togetherness into another, beads on a necklace running short on chain until they slid down and down into sweet oblivion.

Her dreams were of their wedding, of raised glasses and voices, especially Wrex's...gravelly and boisterous and perfect, of Garrus in a tuxedo and Tali' Zorah in a native dress from her homeworld. She dreamed of dancing...moving smoothly over the floor in Shepard's arms, lips close to one another's ears and their faces high on smiles. It was beautiful and graceful, their feet barely touching the ground, the tips of their shoes dipping into the surface of the stone to leave expanding ripples that bounced from the walls to cross-hatch one another like vibrations.

The tile turned to waves and their boat cut through them like a blade, Liara's fingers dragging in the cool water curling off the bow, lithe body stretched along the prow to reach down toward the depths. Behind her Shepard slept, skin burning under Parnitha's stern gaze without a care in the world. They floated there for what seemed forever, until Liara opened her eyes to behold the water turning darker ahead, a ponderous shape beginning to _move _beneath the surface, bigger than the sky.

The boat began to speed ahead faster and Liara turned her head to see the bridge unmanned. She shook Shepard to wake her, the white wood beneath them beginning to groan and shudder as they pitched downward, a mighty wave rising behind. When Liara looked ahead of them again, blood cold as death, she saw the great waters turning slowly around a center that pulled at them; a center with Leviathan arms….

She woke shouting and soaked, arms fighting the sheets that circled her; then Shepard was there, holding her and saying soft sleepy words in a dark and quiet room. On the edge of that nightmare she still slipped, a warmth sliding out of her that cut with the same sharpness. It took a moment to come to herself, the small and frightened tendril of being that was Athena alarming her but also injecting a shot of clarity she grasped without hesitation.

"I've got you, babe, shhh," Shepard whispered. "Everything's okay. Talk to me."

Liara stilled, her breath coming in deep gasps before a hand reached down between her thighs and into a mass of warm, wet bedding. She made a noise somewhere between exasperation and elation and turned to look at her beloved wife.

"It's time," she panted proudly, the chill of fear melting against the warmth of sheer joy. "Athena is coming."

In an instant, sleep died, winked out of existence with Shepard's leap from the bed. "Don't move!" she cried with an imperious finger pointed before shouting unecessarily, "Glyph! Light the BatSignal!"

The ancient earth superhero had been the topic of a drunken discussion between Shepard and Garrus the last time he visited. Liara remembered because it had been a very animated discussion. While she was sleeping.

"Hello, Shepard," Glyph responded agreeably as it winked _into _existence above the bed. "Executing 'Bat Signal' Program, " it said, rotating back and forth and changing colors as if it were pleased with itself before continuing, "Calling eeevverrryyooooone!"

Liara laughed and it made Shepard take at least a full breath, doubtlessly preventing her from losing consciousness. When her giggles were joined by Shepard's the last vestiges of her night terror disappeared. Their child was coming...and everything was going to be wonderful.


	6. Chapter 6

"Actual, Foxtrot and Billy Bob are on standby. Status is green."

"Roger, Raven Two. You are go for insertion."

An audible whoop came from the cockpit before the pilot activated his mic, "You hear that, Turner? ETA two mikes."

"Two mikes, understood!" she acknowledged before standing to open her gear locker.

"Took so long I thought for sure we'd be bingo," Baptiste said as he joined her, dark eyes bright with anticipation.

"Heh," she huffed while turning to climb into a large humanoid shaped set of armor hunched into one corner of the shuttle and sealed her helmet. There was a moment of discomfort as the the suit interfaced with the I/O port just beneath her left ear, but it was soon over. "You want 'em to be sure we're stepping on the right dirtball, don'tcha?"

"Oh I dunno," he said with a calm, comforting drawl, "These new suits are so comfy I could stand a Sunday drive."

They spent the remaining eighty ticks running through test cycles, their voices giving verbal affirmation to various stages for the record. When they finished, Turner took a mechanized step toward the cargo hatch and hit the button with a mailed fist.

As the door to the cockpit slid shut and the rear of the shuttle began to depressurize, Baptiste stepped up beside her and stowed his weapons.

When the hatch opened into space, the outstretched surface of the planet so bright white their viewfinder filters engaged, Turner pursed her lips. "That," she said with a slow release of breath, "Ain't no Sunday drive."

"You think Kravorog is really down there?"

She shrugged, "Intel's Spectre level." They looked at each other for a moment before returning their gaze to the frozen sphere beneath them. "I mean," she said, "If you were trying to hide from 'em, where would you go?"

"Down a really, really dark hole," he breathed, then keyed his mic. "Hawks are perched, Yama."

"You are cleared for HALO infil," the pilot replied. "Grid has been updated and good hunting."

"Roger that."

Turner took two large steps forward, disengaged her maglock and pushed off the deck, aiming her helmet at the horizon with small bursts of maneuvering thrusters while waiting for navigation on her heads-up. In less than a second the shuttle had left them, the planet and surrounding space lit with lines, grid points and flight and threat info. She quickly located the target area and selected the most likely place they could land without being seen.

"At your seven," she heard Baptiste say.

"Course is 265. Initiating burn in three, two, one, burn."

Once they corrected their course and set their speed the thrusters went silent as did the rest of the world, the idea being obscurity from anyone happening to observe. Their current speed would put them into the atmosphere in just a few minutes and at a velocity that wouldn't generate any kind of sonic event. If anyone just happened to look into their small spot in the sky they would appear to be meteorites streaking before disappearing from view.

The rest was just falling, really, until it wasn't; and that slow feeling of acceleration usually caused a lingering, clawing sense of dread as the planet grew beyond the sides of one's visor. Kat loved it, though. It felt like freedom; like...possibility.

Their descent was smooth, details of the surface becoming clearer as they approached with the LZ still close to the horizon. White mountains began to speed by; white plains, all covered in ice, yet the lakes over which they sailed still liquidly reflected the light from Asgard above. That wasn't water down there and it wasn't the air she was accustomed to breathing that gathered in a beige haze close to the ground. Nitrogen and ethane, their briefing detailed. Poisonous. Cold.

The temperature gauge in her heads-up spiked just as she heard Baptiste confirming re-entry. Coolant systems hissed and the air around them began to glow as their shields violently encountered Tyr's atmosphere, slowing them for their long arced approach. Soon after the glow disappeared and they began to fall in earnest, wind racing past them both audibly. Kat grinned and extended her arms out wide. Angled vents detached from the back of her suit and she felt aerodynamic lift turn that fall into a semi-glide, controlled and on-target.

Turner simply thought about engaging stealth-mode and her armor obliged; the colors on her forearms and gauntlets beginning to undulate and change. She pulled one arm back to her chest and balled a fist, watching her fingers curl white against the backdrop of the planet's surface. From below her she knew she'd be a burnt, orange-beige now, the same color as a Tyrian sky.

"We've entered the habitable zone," Baptiste reported as the colors below them and extending to the LZ became a tad warmer.

A bit more brown, a bit less white, she thought as she tilted her head back and forth. "Well damn, I forgot my bikini," she said with a smirk.

She heard him chuckle then sober, "Um, I got heat signatures around the LZ."

"Not supposed to be life here. You sure? Are they tangos?"

There was a pause while they flew and he finally replied, "Sigs ain't matching Krogan physiology. This is somethin' else."

"Big?"

"Mid-size. Bigger than a dog but smaller than a ….bear?"

"That sounds human-sized to me," Turner growled.

"Well they're on all fours, so.." Baptiste explained.

Turner sighed and relaxed. While unusual, these kind of discoveries weren't unheard of, especially on planets inhospitable enough to put off exploration. "Roger that. Let's steer 'round 'em. We'll get some data if we have time." She envisioned a course correction and watched their vector divert on her viewfinder. Who knows, she thought, the data might even be valuable.

"That's better," he declared as his own onboard nav followed suit. "All clear."

Kat's eyes focused on a blinking notification. "Flight deck in sixty seconds, Billy Bob. Prepping jets."

"Prepping jets, aye," her spotter rotely responded.

The land around them was zipping by at this point and their trajectory was strictly downhill. Any mistakes could be fatal and adrenaline made her veins sing, but Kat forced herself to wait until her vector turned full red before pulling up to use gravity as a brake. She could feel the success in her bones as strong as the pull of the ground; nobody would be able to see them this low. When she slowed sufficiently she stretched her arms down by her side, fingers spread wide, and a blast of blue flame spat downward from several small exits in the back of her metal exoskeleton.

Half a ton of mechanized armor lowered to the ground like a feather buoyed by a breeze and her knees barely bent at touchdown. It was a perfect landing. She turned carefully, the suit's 'wings' beginning to slowly retract, and saw Baptiste also settling to the frozen ground. She barked a laugh and began to decouple the entry gear while her companion pumped a fist.

"That ride never gets old," he chuckled while scanning the area.

The rockets had scattered most of the fog that clung to the ground, though it began to seep back in shortly after, slowly engulfing the scattered ice-rimed rocks at their feet, and a wall of it rose at least twenty meters above them in all directions, making it difficult to see anything outside the small space they occupied.

Fortunately they didn't need to. Baptiste's sensors relayed what they saw to Turner's suit, and their viewfinders automatically adjusted to wavelengths that could best penetrate the opacity. It then translated what the human eye couldn't see into holographic representations of objects around them. The technology of these new sets of armor was fifty years ahead of what they had during the war thanks to advances gleaned from the Reaper data hoard, and the irony wasn't lost on anyone who'd survived the apocalypse.

With the entry gear detached from their armor they were smaller and sleeker and with stealth mode engaged they could sometimes only see one another as a hologram in the fog. Turner watched Baptiste turn toward the target he so eagerly sought while that gear folded and shrank into unassuming cubes. There it would stay camouflaged and silent until it could be picked up for refueling.

"'Bout five clicks out," he grunted while extracting a beat up Mattock from where it was slung in a backplate.

Kat just shook her head and scoffed, "Really? You broke regs for that thing? You must get off on hot angry breath in your face."

Her partner just inserted a thermal clip and let the muzzle hang defiantly. "I get to smell that breath each and every time because of this baby rightc'here. Don't you throw in with them now!" he declared with furrowed brows. "It don't suit ya."

"Just watch my back, old man," she grinned while unslinging her ASUM sniper rifle, "I come home with so much as a scratch I'm pitching that thing out a damn airlock."

Turner set off in the direction indicated by their suits and heard the heavy steps of Baptiste behind her.

"Make you kiss the ground first!" came the retort, tainted with exertion.

"Never happen," she laughed as they picked up speed, multicolored obstacles sliding by in her peripheral.

They made good time. When their illuminated target grew and changed color indicating proximity they began to slow. What appeared to regular vision as vague lumps and small hills between clouds of toxic gas turned into holographic caverns and corridors outlined below the surface.

"There's movement around the entrance. Sentries by the look of it," he said with his head and eyes fixed on something ahead.

Turner nodded and turned to slowly circle the complex, both keeping a sharp eye while she searched for her spot. She was methodical and discarded several sites along the way, once because they saw heat signatures that turned out to be a herd of the creatures Baptiste spotted on the way down. If they weren't so close to their objective they might have investigated but she refused to take any chance of a negative response from the creatures that could alert others to their presence. Instead they froze, prone at extended range, until the creatures moved away. Finally, after more than an hour's search, they found a likely position; some rough boulders piled to offer cover and an elevated view a couple of kilometers away from their target.

"This'll do," she said gruffly before taking a knee by the rocks and beginning to set a shooting position.

Twenty-seven hours later, little had changed but the blanket of icy particulate on the ground in front of them.

"Gawd this tastes like baby shit."

"You picked the flavor, genius," Kat teased while her eye was peeled through her scope at two Krogan exiting a sealed entrance into the tunnels. "I mean, I went with vanilla but...whatever tickles your pickle."

He chuckled, but he really wasn't wrong. The nutrient shakes coming through tubes in their helmet scarcely tasted as they'd been advertised but at least it kept them going.

Turner shifted where she lay on her stomach, curling her feet and flexing her calves and quads for relief while she watched for any sign of their target in the place they'd affectionately named 'Turtletown'.

There'd been no sign of Kravorog but several members of his krantt had come and gone, confirming the location as a POI. Nothing in the last hour had changed her mind about targets, though, and with a chew of her lip she admitted as much.

"Your call," Baptiste said unnecessarily, no doubt enjoying the sound of his own voice in a place where the only other noise was the wind and your own breathing.

She sighed and with a thumb, selected her ammo. "Going with the bedbug. Spot me on that crosswind, will ya?"

"Roger." She heard him settle and she waited for him to link up with her scope. "Lock and load," he said in a low voice when he was set.

"See 'em?" she asked.

"Target at Sector Two Bravo, walking ahead at forty-five degrees with secondary contact to his nine," came the suddenly professional voice.

"Contact," she replied right away. "Dispersion check?"

"One point four meters," he called after a moment's pause.

She leaned in and turned a dial on her rifle, then followed the fully armored and environmentally suited Krogan as they walked, talking to one another and gesturing amiably. They were heading for another entrance at the eastern edge of the clearing, a semi-circular depression with the entrance to multiple caverns on the other side. They were only seconds away now; she'd have to be precise.

"Ready," she said clearly. There could be no misinterpretation here.

Less than two seconds later came the words she'd been waiting for. "Left, two point seven."

She adjusted her crosshairs right, completely past the Krogan she was aiming at, and fired.

Her round took almost eight seconds to arrive, long enough for her to take a full breath after the long pause while she pulled the trigger and start another. It popped in the air with almost no sound at all, just bits of debris that immediately swept left in the wind...and across both Krogan.

"Direct hit," her spotter confirmed and Kat nodded in satisfaction.

Both Krogan stopped and looked to their right to see what the sound had been, but after a few seconds' inspection shrugged and carried on, oblivious to the microscopic surveillance spiders crawling over their suits and finding appropriate places to settle where they'd be least likely to be disturbed. Several more bedbugs missed their target and landed on the ground around the path the Krogan walked. They'd spread out and around, looking for crannies best suited for their purpose...or simply squat and record once they ran out of fuel. In this environment, nobody trundling along in an environment suit would even notice the tiny bots among the rocky terrain, especially if they had no reason to think they were there.

The pair of Krogan entered the next den without incident and both the Marines triumphantly activated their feeds to watch what the bugs saw. It was a bit chaotic until the pair got through the airlock but cleared up quickly after. They were even kind enough to remove and leave their bugged helmets near the door so the Alliance could have a nice view of everyone coming and going while their unwitting spies walked deeper into the complex.

"No net," Kat said with a smirk while uploading the unit addresses to Raven Two.

"We're in business," Baptiste agreed then paused before continuing, "But it also looks like our friends are back."

Turner sighed. These creatures were beginning to become an annoyance. "Close?"

"Edge of sensor range but closing."

"Random pattern or on an intercept?"

"Not sure," he said with a mix of concern and curiosity, then looked over to her, "I know you're silenced but they might've heard the rifle report from that distance."

She swore under her breath and called up her partner's longview to see them coming while switching ammo. When he turned his helmet toward her in silent question she explained in a voice that was suddenly quiet and cold, "You ever heard of a wild animal running _toward _a gunshot?"

"Shiiiit," he groaned when realization hit then dropped to a knee behind the wall of their camouflaged hole behind her. His Mattock raised then lowered with a thump onto the piled rocks before he clicked off the safety. "Raven two, this is Billy Bob. Be advised, we may have enemy contact, over."

The problem with gathering intelligence is that you typically have to go somewhere no one is supposed to be. Sometimes that means you've just got brass balls and are showing off in an active theatre but other times….other times you're someplace you're not supposed to be for political reasons, reasons that mean nobody on your team will admit they ever sent you there in the first place or they lose points. This was one of those times. The second kind. The Alliance soldiers didn't expect a reply to their communication and didn't get one, but it was important that Raven knew. Just in case.

Turner took up position where their foxhole curved by her right side and rested her rifle there.

"I count….twenty three," he said in a wooden voice.

"Focus on the left half and I'll focus on the right," Turner tersely replied. Emotion got you nothing in the suck. "Bring down the leaders, they're big enough to slow the ones behind."

"Grenades?" he asked with his hand wandering to his belt.

Kat chewed her lip again. The cameras were in place now without the Krogans' knowledge. If there was any hope of not tipping off their presence at this point, grenades would literally blow it away. She steeled herself for what that meant, then said it with a taut jaw. "Negative."

He grasped what that meant as well as she and they were both silent for a span before tightening their grip resolutely on the weapon in front of them.

"Give 'em hell, Bembe," she said, saying his first name meaningfully.

"Aayy-ffirmative," he said calmly while the shapes began to appear as holograms through the fog. The holos couldn't supply any real detail but they could see that they were big. Big like cattle big. There was no longer any doubt...the herd of beasts was headed straight for them at a run. Their bodies were heavily muscled in the front and they had large heads that hung low enough to ram whatever was in front of them.

Turner had no desire to see what that might look like in action and lined up a shot to the right of one of those ponderous heads. If they were built to ram they might have armor and she wasn't about to waste a round. She let fly as soon as she had a shot and saw it stumble then fall, tripping one of the creatures behind it. The others swept around it and picked up speed, though. They knew exactly where she and Baptiste were now.

She dropped three more before they could get into Baptiste's range, then switched her rifle to automatic fire.

Even silenced, his Mattock barked when it opened up to her left. Her rifle then joined his and the stampede began to slow on the right but not on the left, her ammo apparently able to penetrate whatever armor the creatures had while his was not. She saw him switching to shotgun moments before the line broke over his wall.

Things went south pretty quickly, after that.

"Back up!" she yelled, and they quickly clambered up and out of their foxhole, their temporary home in this inhospitable world becoming a pit for their attackers to drop into before having to scale the wall to reach them. From this position, their combined firepower made it into a death trap for several of the creatures.

She could see them better now but her brain was more focused on targeting than any kind of scientific curiosity. She saw that their skin came in different colors as they streamed into their clearing. Red, orange, green…. Their blood was purple when it splashed and their eyes...their eyes were wide and white when they got within arm's reach. White, through and through. They'd come around the pit now and she could hear Baptiste grunt, then saw him bash one of them in the face with the butt of his shotgun in her peripheral vision.

Turner turned her rifle on one of the creatures that slid around behind Baptiste and she opened fire on it just as it raked back her partner's head with three wicked claws. It fell to the side but the swipe was, unfortunately, still enough to pull him down. Baptiste rolled to his back and blasted upward with his shotgun at another attacker in a direct hit before the full weight of it landed atop him and he fell out of sight.

Those claws! They were identical to a Krogan's hand, she could swear! But then she was rammed from the side and had no time to think. The massive head lifted, cords of muscle running down the neck and back, launching her into the air and just out of the creature's late slash of its own claws as she flew. To land would be to have its full fury upon her, so she instinctively twisted on the way down so that she could roll and roll and roll away. She pulled the rifle to her body as she spun and then pushed hard against the rocky ground to give her a backward boost to her feet. She was immediately forced to dodge a claw and pulled the rifle low against her hip before squeezing the trigger. The creature staggered, this one a sickly yellow color, but it shrugged off the shot through its abdomen and leapt at her again. At the same time, she heard Baptiste, screaming.

Kat rolled to the side, activated her cloak and scrambled to her feet in a sprint back toward her spotter. In the back of her mind she knew it wasn't a good call. There was likely nothing she could do even if she got to him in time but what else was she going to do? Try and outrun them all? She wasn't about to leave him behind, even if their destination was the afterlife.

She heard him scream again as she got back to the site and saw two of the creatures pulling him in opposite directions by his limbs. She leveled her rifle at the nearest head as she ran and she could see the resemblance, now; the same brow and jaw, even if the coloring and teeth were different….these were Krogan. Krogan that could survive where nothing should. Her heart hammered in her chest and time slowed while she aimed… but watched in horror as his leg in full armor came apart from his torso, the crack of the shot and the hole sprouting in the beast's head coming too late to spare Baptiste from a grisly end.

"Bembe!" she yelled, drowned out by the pain and terror in his voice while her momentum carried her toward the Krogan holding his detached leg by the ankle. Her cry was desperate, the last syllable carried long in anger and grief until she connected the fat end of her rifle with the thing's leering face. The momentum of that cybernetically enhanced blow crushed its nose into a spray of lavender and it stumbled backward, releasing Baptiste before rising up on its hind legs, higher and higher until it towered twice her height, then took in a great breath before roaring at her in animal fury. By every god ever named the thing was huge! She saw movement all around them now, including Baptiste as he writhed in pain and suffocation, his personal atmosphere now full of poisonous gas. There were too many around her for the number they'd brought down. Unless maybe they hadn't really brought them down? A quick count showed more than fifteen left. Too many...just...too many.

"Get...outta...here..." Bembe gasped as he lay dying with his body going into painful convulsions. "Kat! Get out!"

One of the shapes became fully visible as it dragged in the corpse of one of its companions, dropping its heavy leg to the ground with a thud as the herd surrounded her. She remembered killing that one, for certain, but there it stood just the same. Her own upgrades could heal serious damage in days instead of months, hours instead of days, but that thing had no armor and two rounds put in it at short range. It shouldn't be up and certainly shouldn't be dragging damn near six hundred kilograms in a matter of minutes. When the Krogan all stood on two legs instead of four, knowing the chase was over, it suddenly occurred her that they were naked. All male. Was this some kind of ritual, she wondered? Some tradition they'd interrupted?

The giant leader blew forcefully out of its nose and a clump of clotted purple ooze fell to the ground. It sized her up for a moment, the pause pregnant, and she took that precious moment, likely one of the last before her inevitable death, to point her weapon at Baptiste's head and grant her friend a final mercy.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly before pulling the trigger.

The rest was violence...and the numb darkness of defeat.

She woke to the coppery taste of blood on her tongue and shortly afterward the realization that she couldn't hear the steady rasp of her own breath in her ears. That meant no helmet. Was she out of her armor? She tried opening her eyes to find out and was alarmed when only the right one managed the job.

For a long moment she was elsewhere among crumbled buildings and demolished people, drawing jagged glass breath while waiting doubtfully for medical transport. The cries and moans of the dead and dying always dimmed after awhile, the only thing wanted alongside sweet life itself being peace and quiet; but the noise came back louder each time they heard that terrifying Reaper sound, the one they made while taking everything away from someone...somewhere, and their miserable cacophony took on the hopeless flavor of dread.

But she wasn't in the wet, sour smelling jungles of Brazil anymore, another panicked breath confirmed with dry, acrid certainty; and the same icey calm that brought her through that hell five years ago asserted itself again deep within and brought forth the question that most needed asking.

Where was she, then?

Her surroundings were dim and having only the one eye able to peer into them made it difficult. She was on her back on a table and just to her right was a tall pane of glass separating where she lay from the larger room beyond. An attempt to sit up made it clear that she was strapped down, and stretching the restraints caused a soft alarm to sound.

The alarm brought an Asari woman around the corner, her brow knit in concern. "Oh dear, you aren't supposed to be awake yet. Just relax, alright?"

Kat did relax a bit at the sight of her and watched her fiddle with a machine nearby. "What happened?" she asked groggily, the words not forming quickly or well. "Something's wrong with my eye."

The asari smiled warmly and moved to her side. "Nothing we can't fix. Just give it some time."

Her vision went soft again as the drugs kicked in. There were things she wanted to ask but they didn't seem very important anymore. She turned her head to watch the attendant as she moved away and noticed something she couldn't make much sense of. Her left arm was lifted, palm up and presented on a higher platform, the skin spread and splayed to reveal the bone and sinew inside. That was intriguing, for sure, but as she followed the limb back toward her shoulder she became confused. It wasn't attached to her, at all. This all had to be a dream, she thought. Just a bad dream. She willed it to be a husk dream, again. She knew how to kill Husks in her dreams.

"I thought you corrected the dosage," Came a new voice from the door. A much larger figure, this time. Krogan Female.

"I did, Ma'am." The Asari replied. "Her physiology is simply adjusting. I'm keeping her under close observation."

"See that you do," was the reply as she turned to depart, "Kravorog is expecting my report, mid-week."


	7. Chapter 7

_Grunt had lost his goddamn mind. It was the only possible explanation. _

Jack reached to her right with a clench of her blue, glowing fist and dropped a heavy canister on one of the assassins out for Aria's blood. How stupid could you be to just stand there and aim? She lifted and dropped it on him again on principle, a grin breaking across her face at the audible thump.

_I mean look at me _, she thought. _Do I _look _like somebody who's gonna convince anyone to sing kumbaya? _

"Jack!" Aria snapped, and Jack focused in time to see the grenade dropping behind them in a graceful arc.

"Shit," she growled and batted it back where it came from with a Shockwave that turned over all the fine furniture they'd just passed, followed by a frustrated, "Fuck!" at the crystalline scream of dying fragile items. She'd had to listen to dozens of lessons about the preservation of valuables and intelligence and _self-fucking-control _and just knew there was a lecture waiting for her when they got back to the club.

Aria was more focused on her own demolition than Jack's at the moment though, striding with tall lethality toward the shifty-eyed double-crossing arms dealer who just found himself alone under his desk. Jack took that as a cue to finish off the coward(s) slinging explosives behind them. She paused behind a wall and waited for the one she'd returned to sender to go off, then raised her barrier and slid into a wall of smoke and debris.

Jack had long ago gotten used to the red and purple shift of hidden objects to her bio-mechanical eyes and could see her prey withdrawing with a sharp limp through the thick smoke. Maybe he'd got a taste of his own shrapnel? Her adrenaline spiked and she picked up the pace, blood tingling for another kill.

_Maybe he _wanted _her to fail, _she pondered as she prowled _. Give Urdnot an excuse to finish the sonsobitches off? _The idea made her brain hurt, but it was just the sort of thing she'd come to expect from people in high places. People like Aria. People like Miranda.

A pang of longing came and went at the thought of the woman, making Jack both angry and sad at the same time. Definitely not the right time to be dwelling on their split, but just thinking about the complexity of her ex made it clear that Grunt wasn't and couldn't ever be in _her _league. Chances of him trying to manipulate her? About zero.

Her quarry's trail took her through a darkened warehouse area and toward a staircase marked exit. For a moment Jack thought she spotted some movement in the spreading smoke and paused, all her senses searching for it. When she heard a grunt of exertion behind her she spun, almost quick enough to dodge the blade aimed at her back. The edge still punched through a gap between her chest and leg plates and pain blossomed brightly there. Her finishing spin brought her face to face with the surprised attacker, a slender shape in armor who withdrew the blade and slashed again with lightning quickness.

Jack's frantic biotic lift on the woman managed to keep her own head on her shoulders, the swinging blade passing harmlessly above. As the assassin flailed in the air high above her, Jack took a step back and grinned wolfishly before her left arm glowed blue and reached out with a perfectly placed Lash. It yanked the assassin back down to earth at high speed, leaving her in a tangle of bruised limbs on the ground in front of her, blade clanging loosely nearby.

She could feel the pleasure building in the back of her head now, the tingles waiting to spread through her scalp and down her back like an orgasm in reverse. It always made her want to hurry but she'd learned real quick that chasing that tiger while someone else might be angling for her led to bad things.

She put a gloved hand around her side to the wound instead and it came back wet and slick with her own blood. She looked around for anyone else in the vicinity before stepping toward the wannabe killer who was trying to pull herself off the floor. A swift augmented kick to her ribs convinced her to roll on her back instead, coughing and lifting her hands in surrender.

As Jack pointed the barrel of her sidearm at the woman's eyes all the old feelings spilled out from whatever fucking hole they disappeared into when it was quiet. She wrestled with all the pros and cons and calculations of the deed, wrapped neatly in the guilt Shepard had worked so hard to plant in her on the Normandy. All of Shepard's _reasons _and all those youthful faces looking to her to be some kind of _model _towered inside when all she wanted….all she really wanted was to feel good again.

After the gun went off she sighed and gave in to it for a second. Keeping an eye on that staircase door took an edge off the racing icey _bliss _that settled in all over and made her shiver in appreciation, but yeah. Yeah….killing a surrendering opponent might be wrong, but this cunt was no source of vital information, no political bargaining chip, nothing useful at all, just a waste of flesh like thousands before her who ran into that inevitable someone _better _.

And maybe that's all it was, she thought as she straightened and headed back to Aria's side with an afterglow that possibly only she in the universe had ever felt, the one gift from Cerberus that kept on giving and didn't die in a wreck of overreaching failure. Maybe all Grunt really needed was an edge.

Talking to Aria about this stuff was a proverbial two edged sword, cutting you no matter how you went about it. She had to broach the subject because number one Aria could refuse the extra time off and two, maybe she could give her some advice. Aria was such a bitch, though. Any advice would come with a hefty side of criticism and ridicule but as far as Jack was concerned she was usually a _smart and fair _bitch. Jack always knew where she stood, no bullshit, and that was alright. The problem was, if Aria decided to be _possessive _bitch or her famous _can't be bothered _bitch today she'd either have to up and quit this gig or shut up and leave Grunt hanging. She'd normally have asked Miri about how to go at it first, but Jack must've burnt that bridge pretty good...she hadn't returned _any _of her calls. So Jack chewed her lip and tried to think of the best way to bring it up as they rode back to Afterlife, one-sided arms agreement from the humiliated weapons dealer in hand.

"So….about my vacation," she started lamely after her boss disconnected a call to Bray about shipments and the onboarding of new 'recruits'.

"Patched things up already?" Aria asked with a sidelong smile, "That was quick. Who's going down on whom in apology?" When Jack clenched her jaw, Aria laughed, "Well that answers that question."

"Actually," Jack said in as neutral a voice as possible, "Something else came up. I'm gonna need more time than I scheduled for the Virmire thing."

"How much more?" Aria replied, her body growing momentarily still. That was Possessive bitch's danger signal. Shit.

"Got a friend with some drama spiraling is all," she said with fake disinterest, "If I get there quick I can nip it in the bud."

Aria deactivated her omni and turned her full attention to Jack then, hands folded across a knee. Her eyes didn't even settle on Jack's face for long, but took in everything about her; how she was seated, what her hands were doing, if her foot was tapping the floor...she _read _her in an instant and damn Jack hated that. She found herself weighed and when she gave a moment's thought to what'd just came out of her mouth realized she'd fucked up right outta the gate.

"You didn't answer my question," Aria purred, a smile curling the left side of her lip in a way that said she was pleased at the slip, "But go ahead. Tell me more."

The look in Aria's eyes was the same one she wore when she was ready to tear anything Jack said to pieces...one of her favorite pastimes. "Forget it," Jack responded irritably, "I'm not in the mood for your shit."

Aria shrugged lightly and settled back in her seat, "Alright. How much time do you need?"

Jack shook her head, "I'm...not sure."

"Guess." Aria said without a moment's hesitation.

She paused and chewed her bottom lip again. The texture was rough from ill-treatment and a loose piece of skin tantalized her tongue. Without thinking, she took it between her teeth and pulled until it came loose, the taste of blood following on its heels. She sucked on it in thought, the small sting helping her focus. Hell, she figured, if her trip took longer than her guess then it must be fucking important, right? If Aria said no to an extension then she'd just quit. No big deal.

"A month," she said, finally.

Aria's eyes narrowed and her face grew hard, "The Freedom Festival is in three weeks."

"It's a _festival _, boss. Bray'll be here, you'll be fine."

Aria leaned toward her, eyes widening, "There'll be more anarchists on this rock than we get tourists in a year. I need you here, this is precisely what I pay you for."

Possessive bitch it was, then. Great. "Oh bullshit. You pay me for what I did back there," she said with a jerk of her thumb behind her, "Not for arm candy. Don't you have some Eclipse on hand for this shit?"

"Jack," the Asari said in a frosty tone, "You've got two choices. One," she said as she held her thumb aloft, "You can tell me what's important enough to take you away for a full month, or two," an option with her forefinger held high, "You can pack up and see who else will pay you as much as I do when those talents come along with your mouth."

And so..here they were, just like every replay of the thing she did in her head beforehand. Yay clairvoyance? Jack sighed, dropping her chin in frustration. "Fine," she said, "I'm going to Tuchanka."

Aria looked incredulous. "Tuchanka," she repeated slowly, like she wasn't sure she heard right. "Why is that?"

Jack sighed again, knowing there was no way to say it that wasn't going to get her laughed at. "Grunt.." she stopped, then started again, "The Krogan asked me to come mediate between Urdnot and the clan that killed Wrex."

A smile grew wide on Aria's purple face, "The Krogan asked _you _to be an envoy of peace?" Her chuckle was rich and deep with amusement, "That's either going to be the greatest story ever told….or the greatest _story _ever told." Her voice grew sharp at the end of that sentence, a clear warning. "Why you?"

"Because Shepard said no?" she answered with a grimace, then outstretched a lazy palm. "I don't know why. All I know is they're pissed off enough over there to kill each other and they figure I can't do worse than that."

Aria went quiet then, looking out the window of the skycar as it raced through the twisting passages that approached the upper levels. She was quiet so long that Jack wanted to interrupt it, get an answer...take off the pressure she felt building like a vice in the back of her neck.

"If you're telling me the truth, this is a big deal," Aria said finally, almost a whisper, then turned to look at her again. "You know that, right?"

The car stopped and her driver waited for her customary exit. She made no such move though, only lifting a chin at him to depart, which he did without a word.

The silence in the skycar was almost as oppressive as Aria's steady gaze, and Jack suddenly felt uncomfortable. "Yeah, I get it," she said with a shrug of her shoulders.

"You 'get it'." Aria repeated with a smirk before leaning in closer for emphasis, "You get that the decisions they make in the next few weeks, decisions heavily weighed by your actions, may determine the future of the Krogan race? That whoever ends up in charge in that hellhole may or may not decide to try conquering the rest of us? That a war of that magnitude could give the Reapers a run on body count?"

Jack snorted, "Christ, no pressure or anything. You act like I'm a kid with a hand grenade."

"Because you _are _," the asari enunciated carefully.

"You know what? Don't worry about it," Jack growled, her temperature rising, "I quit. Okay? Is that what you want?"

Aria leaned back against the side panel of the car with that stupid, insufferable, know-it-all smile of hers. "That's not what I said. You've got your month."

Something in the way she said it though, something in the way she looked at her said she wasn't finished. "But?" Jack pre-empted.

"But," Aria crooned, "There's something else you need to do while you're there. Something for _us _."

"Alright," Jack murmured, her forehead knotting with suspicion. "I'm listening."

She played loud music as she packed just to drown out the thoughts in her head. As much as she liked Grunt and as much as she was flattered by the ask she was already regretting saying yes and hadn't even made it out the damn door yet. There were a lot of people expecting things from her and she didn't know how she'd accomplish any of them; which is precisely why she hated responsibility in the first place. But as she walked to the spaceport, bag slung over her shoulder, she realized that part of her problem was she'd gotten way too accustomed to asking for help from a certain someone she was purposefully not thinking about, which left her feeling even more alone in the whole mess. Nope, she was on her own this time, so she did her level best to remember that they had in fact asked _her, _right? They knew what they were getting..so why should she be the one feeling doubt?

She prepped her shuttle and departed, purposefully building a sense of pride about the whole thing just to keep her from bailing on it. There was one reliable source of advice she could get, after all, and that was from the person who'd already turned down the job; so Jack laid in a course for Thessia. If Shepard wasn't going to help she could at least give her some fucking direction; and having a Shadow Broker there wouldn't hurt her chances, thinking about Shadow Brokers brought her imagination back to a raven-haired beauty with ice-blue eyes, but before she could shut the thought away it occurred to her that Miranda wouldn't miss the opportunity to see the new T'Soni kid. Maybe she'd be there, too. She hated the sense of hope it gave her. The woman was probably laughing at her...that it took as long as it did for Jack to break it off. Stringing her along for years….making her think they'd actually have something together when all she wanted to do was..

"God dammit!" she swore into the empty cockpit before continuing in a growl that ended up a shout, "Do you fucking...hear yourself?!"

She shook her head in disgust and ran rough fingernails through her hair from the front of her scalp to the back. She sighed slowly then, listing all the ways she was stupid in a low voice before finally relaxing and calling up a playlist. These feelings were like some kind of disease. Every time she thought she was past it all she'd cough up her heart again, fresh and beating in her hands so she could dash it against a wall. If there was one good thing about this trip and all it's complicated prospects it was that she'd have less time to run herself through this endless emocoaster.

After hitting the first relay she set the shuttle on auto; not much to see in the Eagle Nebula and Eclipse and the Blood Pack knew better than to give her pause. In the meantime she sent Grunt a message, not really in the mood to talk to anyone vid to vid.

: _Grunt, I'm otw but making a stop on Thessia to see Shep + the new kid. Anything you want from this place? You like Asari spirits? _

Thoughts about Asari turned to Aria and then...helpfully...to the meditation techniques she'd taught her.. The point of it all was to give her finer control over her biotics and that had been a success, though she hadn't quite got to the point where she could sling singularities around. She also found it gave her the ability to put thoughts away when they were unhelpful so that's where she put it to work now.

It's not like she didn't _know_ what the problem was in their relationship; it's that there was nothing she could do about it. Put your own shit aside for Miranda and that's too clingy. Don't put your own shit aside for her you wait a goddamned eternity for her to show any interest. If you show any interest in something else while she ignores you...then you've moved on. Well? She was finally moving on, right? If Miranda didn't do anything about it then it was over….and Miranda didn't seem to be doing squat at this point. Simple. She wasn't really interested in her and had probably never been. Who could blame her, really? After a taboo fling what was left? House and white picket fence? Long nights drinking that swill she called fine wine and talking about philosophy or some shit? Adopt a bunch of kids that piss themselves like Garrus and Tali did? Yeah, death first.

Jack needed to move. Needed to work. She was like a shark that way...swim or die. Miranda was like that in her own way too. One of their few things in common, they were literally designed for a purpose. Unless Jack was suddenly able to grow another brain or Miranda go on the run from the authorities again though...their paths simply weren't going to cross anymore; and Jack refused to pine away for something that never fucking was. Except that's exactly what she was doing. Constantly. Aria was probably right as she infuriatingly often was. She should have just moved on without saying a word, leaving the door open for Miranda to come to her for a fucking change. Woulda coulda shoulda.

Her eyes were drawn to a flashing reply on her Omni.

: _Don't know. Try them all and bring me the best. _

Jack grinned to herself at the challenge and whispered, "Can do."


	8. Chapter 8

It was like a dream, a really good daydream you have when it looks like the world is crashing down on you and your mind escapes to this one perfect unattainable thing. It's a promise to yourself that rises above all the fatigue and pain, a promise of what will come if you just push a little harder and take another step. Part of you doubts it anyway but if it's a lie you cling to it with all your strength because the alternative is unthinkable. So actually being there….looking around yourself and seeing it become really real is a bizarre experience, disjointed because it's inextricably paired with that before time and tarnished with disbelief.

It made the iced mint tea in her glass taste intoxicating and the salt air smell sweet. The sound of children playing in the grass and the chatter of friends was more musical to her than anything coming from the entertainment center on the elegant stone porch where they sat, while the soft hand clasped in hers warmed her more than the summer sun moving slowly above. Shepard found herself unable to speak in these moments, every cell in her body attuned in blissful experience. In a moment the spell would be broken as it always was, but why hasten it?

She could feel concern from Liara who was leaning against her, head on shoulder. Whenever their skin touched they enjoyed a gentle sense of mutual awareness and her wife must have noticed a change in her mood, a subtle withdrawal while she watched her own life like it was some kind of vid. Shepard turned and pressed her lips gently to the asari's crest in reassurance, feeling that concern dissipate into the general sleepiness she felt ever since Athena's birth. Athena herself was half asleep while suckling, oblivious to the wild gestures and boisterous conversation going on around them.

Tali, in particular, had been using the last few minutes to vent about Quarian politics; a frustrated expression on her face behind the new more translucent face mask preferred by their species since they'd developed a better resistance to disease.

"It's like he thinks we don't know that all that tax income is being squirreled away somewhere for him to use in drumming up support for yet another tax!" she exclaimed. "Between his outright graft and the fines from the police force on anyone for so much as walking on the wrong side of the street, Kato'Jomm has managed to make life in the flotilla look like a charming getaway!"

Garrus leaned back on the bench and draped an arm around her shoulders, dextro drink dangling from his other hand where it rested over a knee, lifting and falling to punctuate his words. "We have a saying on Palaven. A fine is a tax for doing something wrong and a tax is a fine for doing something right. Either way, everyone's feeling the pinch."

"Well," Shepard pointed out, "The Quarian government is kinda on the hook for infrastructure on a planetary scale, right? I mean, they have to get the credits from somewhere."

Garrus caught her smirk while she was saying it, one of his mandibles twitching as the comment had the desired effect; which was to say, spinning Tali up just for the hell of it until she called one or both of them Bosh'tets. It was a private game between her and Garrus and the Turian was winning since they'd arrived with a score of 12-10.

Tali growled, a puff of indignant breath fogging up her faceplate for a moment, "We've practically got free labor thanks to the Geth, you _know _that! And it's not like they're trying to cover the whole planet in plasticrete! We've just got to ..."

"Wait," Shepard interrupted, "Just how long do you think the Geth will keep helping you on the labor front? Don't they have their own things to do?" she added with a questioning look at Garrus.

"Oh they still get plenty done," he said with admiration, "At the end of their Rannoch workday they just log out of their bodies planetside and zoom back to spend the rest of their time working on the mothership."

Shepard's brow furrowed. "Why don't they just stay until the job's done?"

"Probably don't want to be fined over a noise ordinance," Tali snorted before pulling hard on her emergency induction port.

"The Geth are individuals, now, remember?" Liara reminded everyone calmly while pulling Athena up to her shoulder to burp with soft taps of her hand. "Have you asked them?"

Shepard sighed, "I don't think I could bring myself to talk to them. I know it's not fair, it's just..every time I hear them speak I think of Legion."

"Even more reason you should, then" Liara chided before offering the small bundle of sleeping blue baby to her. "She needs changed, would you mind?"

"Sure," she replied with a wide grin before pulling their daughter close enough to nuzzle her tiny nose. She'd spent the better part of a day just watching her breathe when she was born, utterly fascinated by the life she'd helped to create. While it was likely she'd grow tired of the daily tasks surrounding her care, that day was far, far away.

As she stood Garrus deftly redirected. "You know, for individuals," Garrus pointed out in his familiar purring way, "They seem to make awfully similar decisions. It's not like a few of them hang around and check out the nightlife after work. They all leave, every time."

Shepard shrugged, gently swaying the child in her arms, "Their processing power increases with proximity, right? Maybe they just like being together for that since they have a choice."

"That's fair," Garrus said agreeably, "But what are they _doing _with all that processing power I wonder? They've put up no new bases as far as I know and have disassembled half their fleet."

She just chuckled before heading inside, offering over her shoulder, "Definitely suspicious behavior!"

Athena's eyes opened a sliver as Shepard reached behind herself to close the door and when her hand returned to support the child, her face broke into a smile so beautiful that she stopped in her tracks to marvel at it.

"Well, hello there," Shepard whispered in a sing-song voice, running the pad of her thumb across Athena's forehead. "So nice of you to join us this morning."

Tiny blue hands stretched out while she made unintelligible sounds, her limbs unsteady but enthusiastic, and Shepard slid a finger into one until she felt even tinier fingers grip it.

She sang a song to her then, swinging that tiny hand to and fro as they walked down a hallway and into the nursery, a song she recalled from her own childhood.

"Little chin, little mouth, little eye, little brow, cheek and nose, cheep, cheep, my little rooster!"

She kept singing as she changed her, pausing to touch each part she mentioned until, well, her hands weren't clean enough to do so. She pointed instead, and the song had Athena's eyes wide in wonder, her mouth in a shocked O shape at the sound. After a few moments she sobered and leaned down, their faces just a few inches away while they gazed into each other's green eyes. The complexity of emotions she felt, just looking at her daughter, were too much for words. Joy, gratitude, hope, fear, worry...none of them could do it justice. She wished she could communicate with Athena the way Liara could; maybe see what she was seeing and feeling from her own perspective. Shepard had no idea what was in store for her daughter or what kind of life she'd lead but she was very aware that this moment between them, this moment _right here _in all its perfection would never come again no matter how hard she held onto it; which made her savor it passionately even as it slipped away.

She could hear conversation near the house entrance now as well as some sharp words from Garrus out back. It sounded like he was scolding one of his children, though, so she paid it no mind. Nevertheless, she left Athena safe and sound on the changing table while she padded to the front door on bare feet. She wasn't _sneaking _, per se, but not all of the guests that had come over the past couple of days were actually on the guest list, so she paused for a moment behind a corner, tilting her head around it to see who it was before announcing herself.

"Jack!" she said with surprise when she recognized the biotic, then strode into the foyer to greet her. "You made it!" She nodded to the asari aide who'd admitted her, then embraced her old friend with gusto.

"Heyyyy," Jack returned in a low voice, her arms strong around her before pulling back. "Sorry I'm late, looks like I missed the party." She pulled her pack off a shoulder to reach in and pull out a furry pyjak doll, tilting it back and forth playfully with a wry chuckle. "Congrats and all. Bucket list item checked."

Shepard scoffed. "Cynic. Come on, I'll introduce you." She put a rough arm around Jack's shoulders and realized she had to lift her arm above her own shoulder to do it as they walked back down the hall. "So how does it feel to be taller than me?" she asked ruefully.

Jack was softly stroking the fur on the pyjak when she asked, and turned to grin at her. "Pretty damn good. Some people even believe it when I say I'll destroy them!"

Shepard broke into laughter at that, then turned Jack left into the nursery and brought them to a stop.

Jack set down her bag and walked over to the table where Athena was kicking her feet randomly into the air. She considered her very seriously, hands in the pockets of her jacket before finally speaking.

"I am so...so sorry, kid," she began. "You've got the biggest…" Jack couldn't stop herself from laughing before she even finished, "Girl scout of a mother..hahahah...that ever…"

"Hey!" Shepard laughed before balling up a fist to punch Jack in the shoulder.

"No for real!" she exclaimed to more punches and laughter, still talking in the direction the squirming child while they tussled, "You're gonna be a decade into puberty before you even know there's an outside world! Torture! Non-stop straight-laced perfectly proper torture!"

"Well," Shepard said with a grin and one final punch, "_ Your _auntie privileges are revoked, that's for damn sure!"

"Ehem," Jack corrected with a raised index finger, "Godmother privileges, you mean. Someone's gotta take her in when she runs away from this paper mache paradise and teach her how to live in the real world."

With utter disbelief on her face she held up her own hand, "Wait, did you just say you want to be her godmother? Are you high?" Then she remembered how fondly Miranda spoke of children when she found out Liara was pregnant. "Or is this coming from Lawson?"

In all the years she'd known the woman she'd never seen her expression change so drastically. Her face deflated like a switch had been turned off and her shoulders fell until Jack's natural pride kicked in and straightened her back like a rod. Shepard felt immediately guilty despite being completely innocent.

"Hey," she started, "What's wrong?"

Jack's eyes met hers directly, ignoring her words as if they were never spoken. "Is she here?"

"No. I uh...figured you'd be coming together," she said in a low voice before her brain caught up. "Oh," she breathed then, feeling stupid and sad all at the same time, "Damn." She watched Jack's jaw clench before she responded.

"It's fine," she spat, "I'm just...surprised she didn't show."

"Yeah," she replied absentmindedly, "Didn't answer my call either. Must've gotten held up or something." Shepard gathered Athena into her arms and turned to her friend once again. "Come on, come say hi to the others. You want a drink?"

"Sure," she replied with a spurious curl of her lips. "You have a bar?"

"Oh, I can have one made for you. Whattaya like?"

"Just...take me to the bar." When Shepard crooked a brow, Jack huffed and waved a hand. "It's not like that. Just wanna see what Thessia has to offer, is all."

She pursed her lips and shrugged. "You seemed to like the Red last time," she offered before walking back toward the main gathering room.

Jack said nothing in response and Shepard imagined that meant she was making some kind of face at her. She spun between two steps, holding Athena aloft for the smile she knew it would create on her daughter's face as well as a sly peek at Jack's impudent expression but it wasn't there. Her face was pensive, almost tender as she watched her every move.

"Wine's not my thing," the woman explained simply before quickening her steps. They crossed the great room together, Jack still just studying her until they reached the sculpted shelving that housed richly gleaming bottles of liquid. As diverting a target as they were, though, she paused with a finger on the cabinet door and words on her lips.

"You seem….happy, Shep. Like...happy like I've never seen ya."

Somehow the way she said it struck Shepard speechless. The truth of the observation notwithstanding, it felt like a betrayal to admit it in light of Jack's distress.

"Yeah," she said after a gentle clearing of her throat. "No question."

Jack had the cabinet open then and was thumbing bottles to and fro until she stopped and snickered. "Oooh. Lookie!" She reached in deeper and pulled out an old, beaten up Carnifex that never left Shepard's side during the war.

Shepard grinned crookedly and shrugged. "What can I say? Happy doesn't mean oblivious."

"Too fucking ri.." Jack started, then bit her lip in consternation. "Sorry," she began again, looking at the newborn. "Too right, is what I meant." She shoved the dull metal of the pistol back in the recesses of the cabinet where it belonged and came back out with a bottle. She held it back a bit to read the label but quickly gave up trying to read the Asari script. "This any good?"

"Dunno, let me smell?" After Jack unstoppered the bottle and held it for a sniff she recoiled. "Uh...no. Definitely don't like that one."

Jack's brow arched with curiosity and she took a whiff herself. "What is it? Smells like…" she took another sniff, "Amaretto and….licorice?"

"Beats me," Shepard replied with fondness. "Bring it along and we'll see."

There was a chorus of happy hellos when the gang saw Jack follow Shepard onto the porch and even the children running wild through the garden returned to see what the fuss was about. Jack just lifted a hand in greeting but her smile was bright and genuine. She took a large leaning step forward to place the pyjak in Liara's lap and Shepard watched her face light up at the gift.

"They are so much cuter when they're stuffed, don't you think?" Liara said, lifting the toy to wave it's monkey-like arms.

"Well," Jack quipped, "They aren't running around stealing your crap this way at least." As the chuckles began she looked at Shepard's wife sincerely. "Congratulations Liara. She's beautiful."

"She most certainly is," the asari said with pride. "Thank you, Jack. It's good to see you again."

"Babe," Shepard interjected softly while she rocked the sleeping child, "Jack had a question you can answer better than I can."

Liara turned her face back up to Jack, who produced the bottle.

"Yeah, can you tell me what this is?"

She tilted her head to the side in order to see the label before her. "That's called Rakomelo. Have you had it before?"

"Nope," Jack said simply. "Any good?"

"It's better when consumed in colder weather. We usually warm the liquor and mix it with various spices…"

But Jack was already taking a swig of the stuff, and both of Liara's brows lifted in surprise and affront, her lips parted mid-word.

"It is laced with eezo as are many beverages on Thessia, but thankfully that won't harm _you _," Liara continued with a smirk. "Was there something in particular you were looking for? I can make other recommendations."

"Yeah," Jack said with a nod while licking her lips. "Something not so sweet, I think. Something for summer maybe?"

Tali was taken aback, "You're actually pairing your alcohol with seasons now? I can't tell if that means you're drinking way too much or have gotten more discerning with your poisons."

Jack just grinned, "Oh it's not really for me, although this," she said while holding the bottle up, "Isn't too bad. It's for Grunt, so he's gonna want the strong stuff. And..." she continued with a chuckle, "It's always summer on Tuchanka, right?"

Liara was looking decidedly thoughtful. "That's good of you to visit him. I think I have just the thing." She got up from her chair despite Shepard's cautious look and headed inside.

"How's Omega treating you?" Garrus asked politely as she departed, "You've gotten along with Aria longer than just about anyone I know."

"That's because just about everyone else sharing you and her as an acquaintance is dead," Jack joked with a snort.

He looked offended at first before he got thoughtful. Everyone was already laughing at the change in his expression before he shrugged and joined in. "When you're right you're right, heheh," he said before giving a cautioning glance at the children waiting in the wings. It wouldn't do to start talking about Archangel's exploits in their company.

Jack seemed to take the hint which was a sign of maturity Shepard noted with appreciation. "She's alright, really. You just gotta figure out her moods."

"I never took you for the sort of person who could take orders from anyone but Shepard, here." Tali added. "But you've been there quite a while. Does that mean Omega is your home now or do you have something else on the horizon?"

Liara stepped back out onto the patio as Tali was asking the question, different bottle in hand, and Jack took a deep breath before answering. "I think that depends on how my visit goes," she said cryptically, her face brightening as she purposefully turned to acknowledge the two Turian and two Quarian children who were beginning to lose focus and pester one another. "Reegar," she said, and the oldest of the four turned his head. "I got a little something for you guys in my pack. You wanna go have a look? It's in the nursery."

There was happy shrieking at her words and a stampede headed through the door Liara hadn't quite gotten closed, the Asari stepping deftly out of the way.

"Hey bud," Jack said with a raised voice, and Reegar paused again before following, "Keep them inside for awhile, will ya? Got some adult stuff to discuss out here."

"You got it," he said through his helmet, chest puffed at being put in charge.

When Liara closed the door again, every eye was on Jack.

"So….." she began, the intense scrutiny unnerving her. She straightened and motioned for Liara to take her seat back, which she did, then looked directly at Shepard. "So you remember when Grunt asked you to come mediate over Wrex's killing?"

Shepard nodded, everything clicking. "Are you taking my place?"

"Yeah," she said, sounding a bit dubious about the whole thing before noticing the quickly masked looks of doubt that flashed on unguarded faces. "And yeah, I _know _the whole 'shiny happy people' thing isn't exactly my gig," she added, her expression wrinkling defensively, "So I was hoping to get some tips before I go."

"I think you're going to be great," Tali injected to questioning stares. "From what I've seen, every attempt to talk diplomatically with the Krogan has failed because bureaucrats in suits can simply never _understand _giant lizard men whose mating partners look for the highest body count during courtship ," she explained. "You can."

Jack's face froze in a lopsided grin, "I'm….gonna take that as a compliment."

"This is still a complex issue," Liara cautioned in the neutral fashion asari seemed to be born with. "Has a date been set for the meeting? Where is it being held?"

Jack just shrugged. "I'm assuming they'll tell me when I get there. What do you know about these guys. Clan...Dulak, right?"

Liara nodded, her eyes dropping in thought before rising to meet Jack's. "They are an old clan that had prominence in the Krogan Rebellions. Their leader, Martak, was a strong opponent of Wrex's during the Reaper Reconciliation, but curing the genophage won him over as it did many others. It is unclear why he would've wanted Wrex dead, but later intelligence on Krogan intrapolitics weakened with their unification."

"Something something Krogan _what _?"

Shepard grinned and shook her head, "Once everyone rallied behind Wrex they had less reason to sell each other out to information brokers, so we don't have as much information about what's going on."

"Martak's death in the attack on Wrex further complicates matters," Liara continued. "The assumption is that he had the full support of his clan and this was the first strike in an attempted coup. If negotiations are being discussed, however, this may not be the case."

"Or it is," Garrus added with a pointed talon before turning to Jack. "They could be using these talks as a distraction while they set up their next strike."

"Very Turian thing to do, isn't it?" Shepard smirked.

He held up his hands in response and shrugged, "You can't argue with success. Now," he said with self-importance as he returned his gaze to Jack, "Here's the important part. If the talks are a setup then Dulak is going to want to kill everyone Urdnot sends to the meet. Likewise, Urdnot is gonna be ready to kill them right back. My suggestion is to go in there with a plan B."

"Plan B," Jack huffed, "On Tuchanka. Isn't that just putting your face between your legs and kissing your ass goodbye?"

"Having the meeting on Tuchanka would heavily weight the success of any kind of altercation in Urdnot's favor," Liara dissented thoughtfully. "You would likely be safe there. My guess is attempts will be made by Dulak to move the talks offworld."

"So meeting anywhere but Tuchanka is bad," Jack said with an almost question mark.

"Not necessarily," Tali said, "You know how prideful the Krogan are. I mean, let's say you were the head of Clan Dulak. If you go to Tuchanka it's pretty much admitting guilt, right? What would you do?"

Jack went quiet, her dark eyes turned inward as she considered the question. She turned and paced the length of the porch before coming to a conclusion, her words addressing the lush and swaying branches of the garden trees. "I'd want to meet in a neutral place where I'm just as much a threat as they are...whether I was guilty or not. I'm not gonna put my head on the chopping block if there's even a chance some asshole with an axe might get pissy."

"That's right," Shepard confirmed. "And I know none of this actually answers your question, but it's a good exercise. This is exactly the kind of thing you'll have to deal with, wherever you end up. You've got good instincts, Jack. Put yourself in their shoes if you have questions and use your experiences on the Normandy as a guide. Remember, sometimes you have to earn their cooperation. Above all, protect yourself and..." she smiled amiably, "Call us if you get into trouble."

"I'm sure that'll be a big help when bullets fly," Jack spat, and Shepard flinched before she could stop herself. Jack turned to them both, eyes narrowed. "Grunt's gonna wanna know when you're coming. What should I tell him?"

Liara stood then with a straightness in her back and a feral eye. "If it comes to that, you remind him that his people demanded a very high price to save their hides five years ago. They can give us a few weeks." As if to soften the blow, she extended the other bottle to Jack. "This is called Siporo. It's usually diluted with other ingredients for flavor as it's quite strong on its own. It's almost 200 years old, a brand of the highest quality and is not easy to procure. Drinking it in one sitting would be a waste, in my opinion. I hope he takes this in the spirit in which it's offered, which is with our humble regrets."

Her stance said nothing of regret and everything of fierce defensiveness as far as Shepard could see, though the pride she felt at the sight didn't diminish the guilt overmuch.

The biotic took the bottle and locked eyes with the Asari for a long moment before nodding with a sullen respect. "Alright, Blue. I'll tell him."

Jack's comment still nagging her, Shepard chewed her lower lip and looked down at the child in her arms. The Shepard that once was screamed and beat at walls built of everything she ever wanted, demanding she do something; but she nailed another deadbolt in that door even as every pound of the hammer felt like it was piercing her own flesh. What more could she do? She'd spent more emotional capital in the war than she ever hoped to possess and now, just when she was getting in the black, she should just abandon it for a fight that wasn't even hers? She'd retired. She was a relic being happily surpassed by the young and by technology so advanced it could scarcely have been imagined. It was their turn.

"Look," Shepard offered with more conviction than she felt, "Let us know where the talks are gonna be and I can make sure there's an angel on your shoulder."

Jack looked offended at the idea. "You think they're gonna want Spectres hanging over this thing? I go in there with Williams on my wing they'll think I'm dancing to a fucking Council tune. Thanks, but no thanks."

She was storming toward the door when Shepard slid between her and it. "Hey," she said reasonably, "I'm trying to help. Really."

Jack paused and dropped her eyes before shaking her head. She lifted it again to look Shepard in the eye. "I get it. You got your thing going and I get it, but you know what they're asking for here, right? They don't trust Williams. Hell, _I _don't trust Williams, no matter what patch the Council puts on her chest. They trust _you _. You get that?"

"Yeah," she replied lamely, "But I'm not going to be here forever. In the end this is an internal fight. I'm glad you're going, Jack; but in the long run they have to be able to handle their own affairs. If they call in an outsider every time they have a disagreement it undermines their authority."

"God dammit, you don't get it!" Jack said loudly, and Athena woke with a cry. She pointed back and forth between herself and Shepard with a demonstrative finger, "We're the only ones that _aren't _outsiders to them! That's the reason we _have _to help, right fucking now, because god help us all if they figure out they don't need us. The Krogan gotta trust us moving forward or whoever ends up in charge might end up looking at us as obstacles rather than friends. Is that what you want?"

Shepard rocked Athena to soothe her, the recognition of the truth only bolstering the voice shouting inside her. She moved out of the way silently and shook her head, letting Jack brush by her into the coolness of the house.

"That wasn't really fair of her," Tali said gently after a moment of painful silence. "In a thousand years, all the trust in the world for you and Jack means nothing. The Council does need to be involved."

"The kid's got a point though," Garrus chimed with an impressed look, "If this were any other situation I'd agree with you but we're talking about Wrex. Wrex maintained control because he was a hero of the war, but it wasn't too long ago that everyone but Urdnot was an enemy of his. If they're asking for outside help it may be because they don't expect an orderly transition. Who knows what kind of psychopath might end up on the throne?"

"And I'm supposed to what, enforce the succession?" Shepard asked incredulously. "If the Krogan people decide they don't want Urdnot in charge it doesn't matter who's asking. I have no desire to be a kingmaker."

"Even if failing to act means a war with the Krogan?" Liara interjected at a near whisper.

She looked at Liara in shock, the unspoken suggestion being that perhaps she should help, after all. The idea appeared to make her wife as miserable as she felt, at least. Shepard tilted her head in question, lifting a hand palm-up to punctuate, but Liara only dropped her eyes. She sighed then, and moved to the Asari's side to gently pass Athena to her waiting arms.

When she straightened, her eyes were lost in thought. "I need to take a walk," she said, and no one gainsaid her.

Her entry to the house was interrupted by Tali and Garrus' littlest family member, a Turian female named Aurelia. The 6 year old whooped and nearly plowed into Shepard while aiming a holographic pistol at Reegar, who dove unceremoniously behind a couch. All Shepard could see though was the age and historical significance of items scattered around the living room, not to mention their fragility.

"Oh no," she started, then raised her voice, "Okay everyone, take this outside!"

Children came out from hiding places, panting and smiling from the exertion. "You should play too!" One said, and another waved around their new toy, shouting, "Jack got us the new Armax 2600's!"

Shepard couldn't help but smile and shake her head in appreciation. She never thought she'd like kids, if she were honest. Funny how you get like that when a single mistake could wreck everything and everyone. There was something about children she never factored into the equation, though, and that was simple, honest exuberation.

"I promise I'll join in when I get back. Tell you what? I'll even let you all team up. How's that sound?"

The cheering as they ran outside soothed her mood until she made it to the nursery looking for Jack. Her pack was gone...but the toy packaging wasn't. It was strewn about the room in pieces, and Shepard pinched the bridge of her nose in frustration. "Jack?" she called, heading back into the main room, but there was no answer. She turned to the front door and headed outside, but didn't see the woman brooding there as she would have expected. Jack was gone.

"Well, shit," was her reply to an unsympathetic world.


	9. Chapter 9

"Hey Jack," Shepard said into her Omni while she walked, "Where'd you go? I'm not sure why you left but call me when you get this. We aren't finished." A slow release of breath through her nose after she disconnected calmed her enough to let her feet lead her in a large circle through the forested estate grounds.

The curated copses appeared to be arranged to draw the eye into their depths, with footpaths and secluded seating areas where one could best appreciate a particular rock formation or listen to the sound of water. Paths meandering through areas with unsure footing sported clever stairs carved from natural rock and even miniature bridges over cuts in the earth; all guiding the observer so gently that no effort was required for anything but the contemplative thoughts that brought them there in the first place. The birds and insects may have sounded completely different on this world, but after a period of adjustment Shepard found them as pleasant as they'd ever been on Earth. It was, best of all, completely secluded and she'd spent many an hour moving quietly through the sun and shade; her destination always the silence of her inner self.

She wasn't sure she'd ever actually made it, but spinning uselessly around in your mind did get boring after awhile. Boring enough that she'd eventually go inside and do something about whatever was bothering her. _Probably not what the T'Sonis envisioned when they built the place _, she realized, which made her smile.

45 minutes or so of that spinning brought her back around to the house where she saw several vehicles crowding the drive. Her pace picked up to a jog, mind going far too quickly to bad conclusions, but she quickly recognized the badges of Council Security on people mulling about and it wasn't long before she spotted Councilor Tevos as well as Liara's father, Aethyta, making a slow walk toward their door, surrounded by staff.

When Tevos saw her she slowed and smiled that Mona Lisa smile Shepard had come to know so well. They approached one another and nodded in greeting, words as careful as their perpetual confidence dictated.

"Shepard," the Asari said with warmth.

"Tevos," Shepard replied, self-consciously zipping up the faded N7 hoodie she only wore when playing hermit-in-the-house. "I didn't expect you to come in person. Welcome."

"As luck would have it I was already on planet for other business," she replied before Aethyta, in poignant contrast, threw protocol to the wind with a hug that pulled Shepard to the tips of her toes.

"Heya kiddo! Congratulations! You pulled it off!"

Shepard couldn't help but hug her back and laugh as she was set back down, "I uh...think your daughter did most of the work there, Dad, but thanks just the same."

"How is Liara?" Tevos asked.

Shepard smiled and gestured toward the front door, then fell in step with the Councilor. "She's doing well. Been sore for a couple days but her physician says everything's fine."

Tevos nodded, shifting a wrapped gift from arm to arm before following Shepard inside, her staff settling outside to allow privacy. Once the door closed she spoke. "She is very young. That may be both the cause and the cure for what ails her."

Shepard nodded, the advice nearly identical to the physician's. "She'll be delighted to see you both," she said, motioning through the great room to the back porch. Aethyta headed off to see her daughter, but when Tevos didn't move, Shepard turned to meet her expectant gaze.

Tevos watched her for a long moment before speaking. "I prevaricated when I mentioned I had other business on Thessia, and I must apologize for intruding on this most intimate of times for your family. The truth is, you are the business that brought me here."

Shepard's eyes widened. "I'm the business, huh?" She crossed her arms defensively while her mind worked. There was only one thing that would bring the likes of Tevos to her door. "I think I already know what you are going to ask and the answer is no. I'm not going to Tuchanka."

Tevos smiled softly. "The internal conflict the Krogan are experiencing is troubling, yes," she began, but Shepard was shaking her head over and over in refusal until the Asari stopped speaking altogether.

A moment later Tevos tried again, this time with a steel undertone, "I need you to hear me."

"I'm sorry you wasted a trip, Councilor. I'm not changing my mind."

"Shepard," she began a third time, eyes hardening uncharacteristically. "This is not about the Krogan."

She blinked, her arms loosening themselves in surprise. "Alright. What's going on?"

Once Tevos seemed satisfied that she was listening, her chin lowered a bit from its imperious height. "There is much to relay. May we sit?"

"Of course. This way." She started striding down a hallway toward the library before bringing herself up short. "You've come a long way," she mused, "You need anything? I could use a drink, I think."

"Yes, please," came the tired reply from someone who normally seemed immune to fatigue.

With a smile Shepard moved to the bar, pouring a glass of Thessian wine for Tevos and a scotch neat for herself before leading the august leader back to a room that smelled of dust and paper despite being immaculate.

Tevos paid her surroundings little mind, settling readily into a chair and putting the package in her lap so she could accept the proffered glass.

When Shepard took a chair opposite her, Tevos began. "I know you have refused to share," she said simply. "I'm asking you to reconsider. You would fully understand the challenges ahead."

Shepard's brow furrowed. "Is this about the Convergence?"

"Yes it is," she replied while looking at Shepard hopefully. When she didn't relent, Tevos tilted her head sadly, then added, "You haven't put in a request for the cure. Why is that?"

She shrugged and took a sip of her 15 year old single malt. She could withdraw from the communal thoughtlink at will, unlike the rest of the affected members, which is why the cure was so important for them. "Didn't seem necessary," Was her only response.

Tevos nodded and relaxed pensively into her chair, drink untouched. "Allow me to bring you up to date, then, though I would remind you of your oath of secrecy on this matter."

At Shepard's nod she continued, "When the cure was first introduced, roughly a quarter million people departed the Convergence. It is a large number, until you take into account the fact that there were over 5 million people who survived the assault on the Citadel as well as the infection process. While there were some predictable issues with the dissemination of restricted information it was handled expediently."

Shepard nodded again, remembering the string of disappearances and deaths that filled the news cycle a couple of years prior. While Liara all but confirmed they were Convergence related, Shepard now knew from the most reliable of sources that it was true.

"I thought for sure the cat was out of the bag," Shepard admitted. "But the whole thing really did disappear. Don't know how you managed it."

"The deaths were unfortunate," Tevos sighed regretfully, "But the example they set kept the rest of the excommunicated in line." Her eyes met Shepard's meaningfully, "Until now."

Excommunicated. Shepard felt a deep sense of unease at the word. While a very precise description for the separation of someone from the groupthink, it rang harshly of negative religious connotations. "What's happened?" she asked again, refusing to be distracted by personal bias.

Tevos spoke slowly, revealing a rare uncertainty in her expression. "As I mentioned, the percentage of those who elected for treatment is small when compared to those who chose to stay. They stayed...I stayed…because together we have helped achieve a level of peace and prosperity for the galaxy that hasn't been seen before. As the date to the cure approached we found ourselves asking why it had to end?"

"Because everyone will eventually realize you've been manipulating Council policy using state secrets," Shepard injected without pause. "When the galactic governments find out that their own people have given you peeks at their hand there'll be hell to pay."

"Yes," Tevos agreed softly before sipping. "But the results are...compelling, don't you think? Will the inevitable penalties for our actions be less if we disbanded? There's much we can still accomplish."

Shepard considered before answering, her eyes locked on the Asari's. "When you were infected you had no choice but to carry on. The galaxy required leadership and you gave it. Continuing the charade after the cure is a choice, though, so...yes, I think the penalties would have been lessened if you stopped."

"We disagree," she said simply. "There are many in power, many whose secrets were used to produce favorable actions, who would be embarrassed by the knowledge of their complicity. Forgiveness is rare in politics, no matter how pure the motives may have been. In fact, we feel that if there is to be any protection for those involved in our activities it will originate most effectively from within the Convergence itself."

Shepard raised her eyebrows but shrugged. "Look, I see what you're saying, but you understand you're setting yourselves up for a fight, right? If you don't work with the authorities and admit what you've done you could be forced to defend yourself against every race in the galaxy. Not even five million people would fare well against those odds."

Tevos was nodding all the while. "We considered that and have a plan. A plan that is now meeting some unanticipated complications."

"Which is why you're here." Shepard posited with a rise of one brow while crossing her legs. "So?" she asked, punctuating the question with a hand, "What do you need from me?"

Tevos' face turned toward the window as she spoke, the blueness of the light reflecting on her face only intensifying the radiant purple of her skin. "It was inevitable that someone, somewhere would begin to notice patterns belonging to a large group of disparate people performing similar activities across the galaxy. We had hoped to obfuscate our work until we were ready to announce what we've become, publicly, but it may have happened sooner than we liked."

She turned to gaze at Shepard directly. "One of our highest level members, in charge of some of the more sensitive aspects of our activities has gone missing, Shepard, and I need you to find him."

Shepards eyes narrowed in thought before confusion set in. Confusion and no little bit of humor. "You have over 5 million people who can communicate just by thinking and one of you still managed to get lost?"

Tevos' lip curled disapprovingly. "Joke if you like, but the galaxy is a big place. There is a range outside of which sharing becomes impossible, as you well know."

Shepard tempered the grin spreading across her cheeks. "Right, sorry. How long have they been missing? Is it possible they've just gotten stranded somewhere?"

The asari shook her head in the negative. "I wouldn't have come to you if we hadn't explored all other options. This isn't a matter of someone taking a weekend for themselves or breaking down in a shuttle. He's been missing for over two standard weeks from an urban location where there should be clues. There are none and that is worrying. We fear he's been taken."

"And you had no hint this person was wanting to leave the group via the share? Could they have just given themselves the cure?" As the Councilor shook her head again, Shepard pressed her. "You're that sure?"

"Even if there were some way to deceive us through the share," Tevos explained, her gaze steady, "There's no chance he would do so."

"Who is it? Anyone I know?"

"Yes. Former Councilor Valern."

Shepard sucked in a breath, eyes widening as she took her own moment to look out the window. "As a former Councilor he's got a permanently assigned security detail. They gone too?"

"Only one. Both he and Valern disappeared while they were on duty. You understand our concern."

"Was the guard that also disappeared in the Convergence as well?"

"Correct."

Worry wrinkled Shepard's brow at that point. "It's unlikely he could disappear like that without his security personnel's knowledge…..or participation." She turned, leveling a look at the woman again. "Have you considered that angle?"

"We have. The rest of them have been rigorously interviewed regarding their activities that day, and their reports have been verified." There was something strange about the way the consummate politician uttered the final sentence. Something flat.

"Really?" She countered, letting the tingle in her guts that so rarely led her astray take her by the hand, "By whom?"

Tevos seemed pleased with her answer. She folded her hands across the the package in her lap, seemed to realize she'd forgotten to give it to her, set it on the table beside her, then grasped the arms of her chair with delicate hands. "This is the crux of the problem. Valern's escort was entirely Salarian."

That old sinking feeling was back. "Don't tell me they were on Sur'Kesh."

"They were, and that's why we require your help in particular."

Her eyes closed and she shook her head in frustration while saying, "So you think a former member of the Convergence spilled the beans and the Salarian government may be behind Valern's disappearance?" She scoffed then in disbelief. "I'm not sure what I can do for you, Councilor, but I don't think there's a planet in the galaxy that would be less comfortable with my presence." They both paused before Shepard added an embarrassed, "Well, maybe Khar'Shan, but you know..."

Tevos smiled softly and dropped her eyes with a sad nod of understanding before returning to topic. "Their government's lack of cooperation isn't a roadblock if the investigator is a Spectre."

"Well, I can't be the only Spectre in the Convergence, " she protested. _There was another on the Citadel when it was taken, surely. _she thought to herself. _Yes, Jondum Bau, and he's a Salarian to boot! _But just as suddenly as his name came to mind she recalled him and his entire team throwing in with the war effort after she and Kasumi assisted him with the Hanar diplomats' indoctrination. He wouldn't have been onboard, after all.

"I'm afraid you are," Was all the Asari said and from the look on her face Shepard could see she wished it were otherwise.

"You haven't promoted any in 5 years?" Came her incredulous reply.

Tevos sighed patiently. "It's not as simple as you suggest. Elections have been held for almost all Council positions in that time and while the Convergence maintained some of those seats we couldn't keep them all. Valern's replacement by Esheel is an example of that. There must be a vote for new Spectre applicants, as you undoubtedly recall, and circumstances are such that no Convergence members have been accepted." She went silent for a moment, her head tilting compassionately. "I am truly sorry for this, but we have no other alternative."

Now it was Shepard's turn to sigh and she took another drink; a longer drink that burned the back of her throat. "What will you do if it's true?" Shepard finally asked. "What if they know?"

Tevos met Shepard's gaze for a long, long moment and she could feel the Asari's concern radiating from her. "Things will become...complicated."

Her wife had just pitched a fit to get her out of helping Grunt, an act that could have clear repercussions on the galaxy, and yet here she was considering intervening in another political shitshow. The thought made her stomach tie itself in knots.

She stood and paced to the window, fingertips massaging one temple. "I don't appreciate being dragged into this. You can't even legally call this a Spectre mission. I wouldn't be working for the Council, I'd be working for you. Give me one good reason I should agree."

The asari arched a brow reluctantly but after a moment under Shepard's heavy stare seemed to resign herself to the answer. "Because you are one of us, Shepard. Once word gets out there will be widespread medical testing to find any remaining potential 'agents'. You too will be held accountable, if not for direct activity on our behalf then for your silence."

Shepard's eyes flashed at the words and she felt that same temple begin to pound with anger.

Tevos saw it in her and held up a calming hand. "And yes, I understand why this is upsetting to you," she said with a voice made of sweet cream. "Do you think I _want _to give you ultimatums? This should be a day for celebration. A day to revel in the birth of your first child." When she didn't answer, Tevos added, "At least you have the opportunity to intervene, rather than react too late."

Shepard looked away from her then and back out the window, preferring the vision of the wind through the branches to the face of the woman kicking down the front door of her paradise. "It sure sounds pretty late to me. Are there any resources on Sur'Kesh I can actually use?" she snapped. "Anyone I can contact for intel?"

She heard a sound of relief from behind her that was as close to a chuckle as she could recall hearing from the staid politician. "You're not universally hated there, you know," Tevos said with a touch of fondness. "There will always be people on the wrong side of history, but the Salarian people honor your accomplishments in the war just like everyone else."

Her head swivelled to look at the Asari, irritation swelling nonetheless. "I'll take that as a yes," she growled.

Tevos nodded and Shepard downed her drink, sucking on her lower lip audibly afterward. "Christ," lifting an arm to prop against the vertical windowsill, "What am I gonna tell Liara?"

Tevos rose as well and smoothed her dress. "Perhaps you can start by saying that instead of saving an entire galaxy, you need only save one man."

The Counselor didn't stay but apparently Aethyta had. When Shepard stepped back outside she found the unflappable Asari commando sitting quietly as the grave before she felt Liara's harsh glare turn to her instead.

"You agreed to this?" Liara asked with pain in her voice. "Why would you help them? If you had any defense to offer once the galaxy knows about them, it disappears the moment you accept Spectre status."

Shepard had forgotten that Aethyta was a member of the Convergence, which meant she would have known about her talk with Tevos as it was happening, and the remembrance was like a splash of cold water. She turned to her father-in-law with narrowed eyes and asked, "Why did you tell her?"

Both of them spoke at once then, Aethyta in self-defence and Liara in attack.

"She's my daughter _and _a Shadow Broker…." Aethyta began.

"You'd have _kept _this from me?" Liara cried.

Shepard shushed them both to keep Athena from waking, which didn't improve any moods. "No...look...that's not..." she started before running a hand through her hair. "Listen," she tried again, "All I meant was I wanted the chance to talk to my _wife _about this on my own, okay?" It was then she noticed that Tali and Garrus along with the kids were gone. Ignoring the pair of upset faces still regarding her she asked, "Where'd everybody go?"

"I told 'em we had some private things to discuss," Aethyta said flatly, "Proof I wasn't netblasting the whole goddess blessed world?"

"They've gone to their rooms for naptime," Liara chimed in with a look of barely soothed hurt. "Tali said the little ones were getting cranky, anyway."

Shepard sat roughly in a chair and entwined her fingers with a sigh, only looking at Liara when she was ready to speak. "Honey, I'm in a tough spot here. If I'd known this was coming I'd have told all of them to take the cure and leave me out of it."

Aethyta started to speak and Shepard spoke over her, "But since I didn't have any choice in that I have to consider what's best for this family, especially since everything we've done...everything _you've _done, babe, has been to take scrutiny _away _from us, to give us the space we need to raise Athena in peace and quiet. Do you really want to jump back into the spotlight with this bombshell? Or should I just do this _one _thing to either protect us entirely or buy us the time we need to adjust?" She looked to Aethyta then even as she still spoke to her beloved. "Because I think Tevos is right. When the time comes to tally the cost I'm damned whether I act or not."

"This isn't what I wanted...what any of us wanted," Aethyta regretfully intoned. "You gotta know that."

Shepard's lip curled wryly, "I know it wasn't, and truth be told I could've kept in better contact. That being said," she began, "Just what the hell are you guys doing? I would have thought you'd cure yourselves the second it became available."

"That's...tough to explain," the Matriarch replied with a sideways glance at her daughter. "And I'm not sure how much you wanna to know, given the circumstances."

"Is that a joke?" Liara asked with a bitter tone. "We need to know what we're dealing with...what Shepard might encounter on Sur'Kesh, who she's up against. We need to know everything, father."

"That's the Shadow Broker talking," Aethyta grimaced, "But there's still a few things you don't know, little wing. That you can't know."

"And why is that?" Liara countered with suspicious eyes. "We aren't the enemy. We wouldn't ever hurt you, you know that. If you still can't talk to us that means you're doing something you probably shouldn't."

Aethyta pursed her lips and shook her head. "Not something we shouldn't. Something you're just not ready for. Not yet."

"I think we're able to make that decision for ourselves," Shepard said calmly.

"Great," Aethyta huffed, "Share when you're ready. Then _you _can explain it to her."

"Why do you two keep asking that when you already know my answer!" Shepard exclaimed. "What's so damned important that you can't just tell us?"

"Because I don't have a damn year to walk you through it, that's why!" Aethyta answered. "There's layers here, Shepard. Layers and layers and if you don't see it all you don't see it _at _all." She looked back and forth between them. "Do you trust me? Have I done anything to make you doubt my intentions?" When they didn't answer in the affirmative she continued, "What I _can _tell you is that what we're doing is mind blowing. It's galaxy changing and it can belong to you, both of you...if you just reach out and take it!"

"Father," Liara said after a moment of consideration, "You know what you sound like, don't you?"

"What's that?"

"A dust peddler. A madwoman. Some kind of...cultist. If it were me you were trying to convince I'd have even more doubts about sharing than before."

Her father's eyes hardened, but she chuckled just the same. "And you wonder why I kept quiet."

"Look," Shepard interjected impatiently, "Just...give me whatever you have on Valern and whoever you suspect gave him up. Can we start there? If he's been gone two weeks we may not have much time left."

"You'll get what you need as soon as you accept reinstatement, which should already be in your box," she said tersely, jaw working in frustration. "Let me know if you have any other questions or need resources of any kind and I'll make it happen."

Shepard met Liara's heavy gaze and could feel her worry from three feet away. She put all of the love she had for the woman into her eyes and they shared it between between them, letting it outgrow the sad, foreboding sense of deja-vu that filled the air. "It's okay babe," she said lightly, "How hard could this be? I either find him or I don't."

Aethyta rose from her seat, ostensibly to give them their space, but Shepard stopped her with a hard look. "Oh no. You're not going anywhere," she said.

"Is that right?" came the doubtful reply.

"Yeah, it is," she said firmly while returning her eyes to Liara's blue ones. "I'm gonna go find your Councilor and you're gonna stay here and help your daughter figure out how the hell to get us out of whatever's coming down on your head."

Liara nodded, turning to her father with analytical concern. "Yes," she agreed, "It appears we have a great deal to discuss."

The aged Asari sat back down and Shepard stood to prepare.


	10. Chapter 10

Shepard had just sat down at her personal terminal with a steaming mug of joe when she got an encrypted comms request. There was only one place those requests came from anymore and she smiled widely as she accepted; the familiar background of the Normandy CIC framing several faces that erupted in a shout of congratulations. She laughed and waved to them, "Thanks everyone. I was beginning to think you all had me blocked!"

"Only because you never call without wanting something," Ashley joked while Joker snickered.

"Yeah," he said sarcastically, "And it's never a cup of sugar, amirite?"

Sam leaned a bit closer to the monitor with a wink, "I've been reaching out all month for another match. I think you're the one ignoring me because you can't even contemplate a fifth straight loss."

Shepard flinched dramatically. "Ouch! Don't worry, Traynor, I've got some moves I researched just for you," she purred.

"Just for me?" she squeaked, delight coloring her dark eyes as she glanced to her left at Joker, who choked unexpectedly.

"Oh come on, you two trying to make me," he growled with an embarrassed squeak despite his denial, "'Uncomfortable' is so last decade." Joker moaned, shaking his head in disgust. "You need new material."

"Jeff," EDI's detached voice intoned from nowhere and everywhere at once, "If their comments are unwelcome, I can sever Shepard's connection."

"Whoa!" "Wait a minute." "Holy wow!" Came the amazed responses before Ashley cut in, "EDI, I think that's a bit much."

"On the contrary, Captain," she said dispassionately to Williams, "Protecting a mate's feelings is an imperative of the relationship. Failure to acknowledge and defend their emotional state indicates that a partner is not fully invested in their wellbeing."

Shepard's brow rose in surprise, but before she could say anything, Joker said, "Oh, I get it. Hey you know what?" He looked around at everyone meaningfully even as he spoke to the AI, "Thank you for defending me, EDI, but this another one of those times where your own people are allowed to give each other shit when other people can't."

"I see," EDI replied. "You were not actually offended, despite the rise in your blood pressure and heart rate."

Joker's hazel eyes widened just a smidge before his expression became suddenly guileless. "Nope," was all he said, biting the word off with pursed lips.

"Ahhhh.." EDI said then in a vocalization Shepard had never heard from her before, tinged with disappointment. "I understand. You were aroused and only claimed you were uncomfortable to spare my feelings." All the faces on the screen now ran the gamut between humor and horror at her words, Joker's own turning a tad pale as she continued, "I'm sorry you feel neglected. I will arrange another 'skin date' for you at our next port of call."

"Wait, what?" He stuttered, embarrassed and defensive, "Skin date? I don't need one of those! I don't even know what that is!"

Everyone's heads turned to give him steady stares at that point and it occurred to Shepard just how hard life must be onboard for him...even with Donnelly there, he was hopelessly outnumbered with women from the old crew.

"Relax, Jeff," EDI finally said before one of the veins in Joker's neck could burst. "I'm just demonstrating my proficiency at 'giving shit'."

Shepard covered her mouth as she laughed. Ashley guffawed while Jeff looked relieved...and then slightly offended. Sam even snorted a bit.

"I have...so many questions…" Shepard said slowly, shaking her head, and the giggles got louder before she reconsidered just what she might be asking for. "You know what?" She asked with a chuckle and a wave of her hand, "Nope...just...carry on."

She was interrupted by the short, greyer-haired form of Dr. Chakwas muscling closer between Joker and Sam, clearing her throat. "As endearing as I find such talk, would you mind telling us how the _child _is doing? How Liara is liking motherhood?" Her eyes sparkled with their own mirth, "How you handled your first diaper change?"

Shepard grinned like a fool. In only a few moments she felt as if she'd never been away from them. "I'd _love _to, but speaking of severed connections...gimme a second? I think Liara should be in on this convo." _And could probably use the distraction _.

Half an hour later, after Garrus and Tali had joined them all in the great room, the proper celebratory mood had been revived. Shepard smashed the selfish sense of frustration she felt at having to disrupt the merriment and eventually asked Ashley for a private moment. Valern's life was in the balance, after all. She had limited time.

"What's up Skip?" Ashley asked with unabashed curiosity once she'd joined the private channel.

Shepard sat back in her office and picked up her lukewarm cup with a stretch. "Em...she's your boat, Ash. Why you keep calling me that?"

Without missing a beat, she answered, "Easy. I've earned it." She sat down at her own desk in the Captain's quarters and waited expectantly.

What could she do but shrug? "Alright then," she said slowly. "What was that with EDI?"

Ashley chewed her lip, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "EDI's come a long way. She's constantly surprising us with her sophistication."

"Was more concerned about the threat to cut off communications," Shepard said in a low voice before tilting her head questioningly, "You don't seem worried, though."

Ashley looked thoughtful for a moment. "I've found that she only does that sort of thing in certain company, you and me specifically," she said. "She's never followed through on any of it either. It's always a sort of demonstration...or exploration of human interaction, if that makes sense."

Shepard nodded. "Sounds pretty familiar. Just a shock to see these leaps, I guess," she added with a wry chuckle while leaning back in her chair. "Anyway, took you away from the party because I was curious about how things were going in the DMZ?"

"Wish I could tell you," Ashley replied with a tightened jaw. "Councilor Esheel redirected us to investigate some illicit genetics research in the Nemean Abyss."

"Um, I thought all research in the Abyss was illicit," came her annoyed response.

Ashley rolled her eyes. "There's clearly some political motivation involved. Esheel has no warm fuzzies for the Krogan." Her expression said there wasn't much she could do about it, regardless.

Shepard rubbed her chin with the pad of her thumb as her mind whirled. "So you agree that your diversion was on purpose. I spoke with Tevos just a bit ago and the Krogan matter doesn't seem to be that high a priority for her either. This is arguably the biggest game changer in the galaxy at the moment; they have to have _someone _assigned to look into it."

The Spectre shrugged. "Whoever it is, I can't imagine this mission will take long enough to keep me out of play for good. Regardless of Council games it's on top of my list."

"Good to hear," Shepard mused. "Jack's flying into that hornet's nest and could use a bit of cover."

"Well," Ashley sighed, lifting her hands in defeat, "Not sure why she picked that particular spot for a vacation but just tell her to keep her head low. She's on her own for now."

Shepard tilted her head back and forth, "I'll ping Miranda. Don't worry about it."

Ashley nodded and met her gaze directly. "So...how are you doing, really? I'm sure Baby Athena is the best distraction in the world but I'm still seeing your game face under all the smiles."

When Shepard took a peek under her own hood, so to speak, the roiling mix of jumbled emotions were too much to break down into something consumable and she wasn't really sure how much she could share without tripping into her own secret mission.

"I'm….still upset over Wrex, no surprise," she offered. "Grunt has asked Jack to come out and help with some of the fallout since I can't be there right now. Bakara thanked us for our condolences, and I know she's as strong as they come, but nothing really replaces being there."

"I get it," Ash said in an understanding voice. "But as I said, I think they'll be fine. You and Liara will be out there in no time."

"Yeah," Shepard murmured noncommittally. "Anyway, thanks for the update. I'll let you get back to the gang."

"Oh, you not gonna join us?"

"Unfortunately I have an appointment to keep."

"Right," Ash said with a smile, "Talk soon then."

With a few touches on the workpad, she disconnected and switched to that next appointment, which was waiting patiently for her.

_YOU HAVE BEEN EXTENDED THE OPTION TO REACTIVATE YOUR AGENCY IN THE SPECIAL TACTICS AND RECONNAISSANCE BRANCH OF THE GALACTIC COUNCIL, SUBJECT TO REGULATIONS LAID OUT IN SECTIONS 230-314 OF THE GCOP CHARTER. _

_DO YOU ACCEPT? _

Liara's words returned to her, then, the ones about her implication in everything the Convergence had ever done if she accepted Spectre status. She knew better than to ignore Liara's warnings; the woman had a towering intellect even before she had access to the largest information troves in the galaxy. The problem was that she couldn't very well change her mind and disavow any of the group's activities if she didn't know what they were; but she also didn't have time to have them detailed and absorbed, even if she trusted their complete accounting, before Valern's fate was decided...unless she shared.

And she really didn't want to share. The act of joining the groupthink carried bad memories enough; which made the fact that so many people had decided to remain in the Convergence after all this time baffling. But even if she shared and discovered every dirty little trick they'd learned and used, what sort of position would that put her in? If she disagreed with their choices (and she was certain she would disagree with some of them), then refused to get involved, she would still be duty bound to report them to the authorities. Failure to do so would make her an accessory….which put her firmly in the same place she was now; subject to the same penalties unless she protected the group herself.

Reporting to the authorities was a dangerous option, though. The Convergence had killed before and would kill again to protect their organization. If Shepard had ever been looked over in that regard the consideration stopped the moment Tevos advised her of their dilemma. Could Shepard protect her family from five million thought sharing agents if she turned on them? Perhaps. She was owed a lot of favors. It wasn't something she really wanted to test, though, when weighed against simply performing an investigation into the disappearance of a former Councilor; something the Spectres would absolutely do in the normal course of their jobs. If her choice as that Spectre raised brows it would only be in the upper echelons of the Council where every decision a politician made was fodder for speculation.

Plus, in their defense, Tevos and by extension the Convergence had actually done a stellar job at governance. Just because someone was a member of the group didn't invalidate the fact that they were members of their own races with their own ambitions, and those inclinations factored into every choice the group made. From what Shepard had seen, the policies they influenced weren't universally popular but they did seem to have everyone's best interest at heart. The difficulty of that decision making process, as well as the inevitable blowback, was something she keenly identified with; so if the net results were positive, even if their methods may have bent or broken the law, should Shepard withhold her assistance? The abject hypocrisy of the act would strike her with a bolt of lightning well before the Convergence would get their due. Mind made, she pulled closer to the terminal, fingers moving deftly over the interface.

_|YES _

_SPECTRE STATUS RECOGNIZED. _

_WELCOME BACK, JORDAN SHEPARD. _

_YOU HAVE MESSAGES FOR REVIEW. _

An hour later she'd made her apologies to her guests, said her goodbyes to Liara with a decidedly sharp look at her father, and kissed Athena farewell.

"Miri, it's Shepard," she said after the VI on her Omni directed her to leave a message. "Where are you? I...we need to talk. About a few things. Get back to me." Before she could disconnect, her screen lit blue and Miranda's face took shape before her.

"Shepard?" her voice said cooly while her eyes tried their best to take in Shepard's surroundings, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," she protested, actually surprised she'd picked up. She closed the door to her shuttle and sat down in the pilot's chair, prepping it for departure. "We expected to see you this week. Is...everything okay there?"

Miranda's face looked wooden. "Everything was fine until I got a call from you, Liara and Jack within an hour of each other. I expected an emergency. What can I do for you? Did you get my gift?"

"Yes we did," she said with a growing smile. "It was thoughtful...and extravagant. You spoil us, as always."

That seemed to crack her facade for a moment, the left corner of her lip curling just enough to reveal a dimple. Her very blue eyes dropped for a moment before returning to their customary directness. "I wish I could be there. I'm very sorry to miss it."

"You...have a minute?"

Her eyes slid sideways before she replied. "Honestly don't, but I'll squeeze it in. Special occasion and all."

Shepard grinned, the interaction reminding her of former days. "I'll keep it brief, then. Heard about you and Jack. I'm sorry."

Her lips tightened and she nodded, her reaction frosty. "Thank you. What else?"

"Liara should be returning to work soon," Shepard continued after a confused pause at the brevity of her response, "But until then I thought you might want to know Jack's heading to Tuchanka. I know we don't have a lot of intel there, but you may want to redouble our efforts in that regard."

"We're already recruiting in light of the upheaval," the Shadow Broker said smoothly. Her eyes narrowed a bit then and she added, "What's the concern?"

"Jack's there in a diplomatic capacity," Shepard clarified. "Could get pretty hairy. Just want to make sure we've got a clear picture in case of trouble."

"Diplomatic…" Miranda repeated blithely, clearly surprised. "She's no business getting involved with this. Who put her up to it?"

"That would be Grunt," Shepard answered carefully at the accusation in the woman's tone.

"I haven't seen any official requests for mediation coming from Tuchanka, which means Grunt doesn't know what he's doing, either," Miranda snapped.

"Honestly, I take that as good news," she said. When Miranda tilted her head in annoyance she explained, "If she's just there for Grunt, that is. I'm planning on reaching out to Bakara directly."

"Well wishes aside, I think you should stay out of it," Miranda advised. "If the rest of the galaxy sees your name in a headline paired with 'Krogan Civil War' or anything remotely similar they'll assume the worst."

That made a lot of sense, though Shepard wondered if it wasn't just what she wanted to hear. She paused in her routine to focus.

"Listen, is it going to be a….problem for you to keep an eye on her just the same? If it is, let me know and I can tag Feron."

"If I thought she'd listen to me," Miranda said through clenched teeth, "I'd get her out of there entirely. But yes, I'll keep an eye on her."

"Hey," Shepard said after a long, tense moment, "Are you okay? You wanna tell me what happened?"

"Irreconcilable differences," was her boredly frustrated response. "You predicted it, really. What we had was good, but I think we both knew it was on borrowed time." The woman looked at her directly, every inch the Miranda Lawson that Shepard recalled from their first meeting on Lazarus Station; cold, brusque, and arrogant. "I'm fine, thank you for asking. I have everything under control."

Shepard couldn't help but smirk at her attitude. The difference between now and then was that she knew there was a different person there, under that mask of confidence; a person with real feelings and very real needs. "You always do," she said with compassion. "Let me know if there's anything I can do to help?"

"Of course," Miranda replied with another softening of the eyes that apologized without her actually deigning to say it. "Was there anything else?"

She considered telling her for a moment, to the point that her lips parted to speak, but she closed them and shook her head. Miri seemed distracted and sad and Shepard didn't want to add more to her plate. "No," she finally said. "I'll call you later, when you're not so busy."

Lawson nodded, her eyes already moving to other tasks. "Tell Liara I said hello," she added.

"Will do," she agreed even as a banging began on the outer hull. She disconnected, then got up to punch the hatch release and see what the problem was. Much to her surprise, her view filled with a Turian armored in silver and blue.

"Garrus?" she cried with a lift of her hands. "What are you doing here?"

He strode into the shuttle with confidence, brushing by her to put down a large locked case. When he turned to her, his mandibles spread in exasperation. "Are we really going to have this discussion again? It's getting a little...dead horse, don't you think?"


	11. Chapter 11

Jack met one black look after another stepping out of her ship. Dropping Grunt's name got her an escort, though, and she made her way through the largest group of Krogan she imagined anyone had seen together since the Rebellions. There were distinct camps here, arranged around the rough dias of the Keystone where it lay beneath the brightsun shadow of the ancient city that birthed it. She remembered this place, remembered bringing Grunt here to join Urdnot all those years ago. It'd grown since then, a massive row of newly constructed buildings giving shelter to some of the groups with the largest reserved for Urdnot in the center. Smoke rose chaotically from cookfires and gruff voices rose and fell from thousands of mouths. A symbol on long canvas flapped in the strong Tuchanka wind around the plaza, a stylized but blocky shape that was clearly a Reaper gripped in the embrace of a Thresher Maw.

She remembered being disgusted with the whole place last time, and she hadn't been a shining example of hygiene herself. The places that weren't pulverized had been occupied by filthy ragtag groups who struggled to remember to shit in a hole instead of a corner; and her nose remembered the smell of decaying meat no matter where she went. Now the Krogans' clothing and armor was whole, if not clean, while females walked among them. She even saw a child at one point, crawling over what must have been its seated father as they pushed their way through the chattering throng, and she had to be nudged forward when she stopped to check she wasn't hallucinating.

Not that any of them looked proud of their collective crawling out of the cesspool just now. Someone else might've gotten a complex from the hate she found in all those beady eyes, mostly sharp stares at Krogan standing in other groups, with the rest for her; but nobody got in her way or raised any sharp objects as she walked, so she just put on her best sour expression and leered right back until she started climbing large ancient steps that provided a view of the dias rather than bobbing reptilian heads. From there she could see a house-sized pyre constructed in the middle of the giant concrete slab that doubled as an arena to weed out the weak in their rites of passage. She could only guess how high the flames would rise when it was finally lit. It would be an epic tribute to a legendary leader.

The Krogan framing her path took her straight to Grunt, who was speaking in a low voice to a small group of warriors in Urdnot colors. He turned to look at her, then spoke over his shoulder. "You see?" he said gruffly, "She's here. Finish your preparations. We leave after the Rite is done."

Unlike the hundreds who laid eyes on her up to this point, this group grunted and nodded while sizing her up with a challenging look that in this place was called respect. She eyed 'em all like she was looking for the best place to slip a blade and they wandered off to do whatever it was they did to pass some ticks.

"Grunt," she greeted in a low voice, careful to keep a neutral expression in the middle of the tension filling the air.

"Jack," he returned with gravity, then gestured to a shaded corner. "Let's talk."

She waited, counting two steps before letting the question slip. "So, where we going?" she asked, remembering Liara's words like they were written on her brain.

Grunt stopped to lean against a stone pillar, the contact making dust fall from him to float in the slanted sun. He folded his arms and looked at her directly before answering. "Tyr," he said simply.

"Yeah? What's on Tyr?"

"Clan Dulak."

Jack huffed, "To talk, I assume."

"Yeah," he said, the word rumbling in his chest and coming out as a tired sigh. "There's a lot you need to know, going in, but I don't have time to lay it out. For now, drop your gear in my room, then come back and stay close. There's people you need to meet." He pointed through the roughly hewn concrete doorway to his right. "Last door on the left. Everyone knows you're coming."

She nodded, then eyed the number of Krogan milling inside before shoving herself a path between them. Other than a surprised look or two she made it, her hand pulling aside a brightly decorated animal hide to reveal Grunt's quarters. It was quiet and dim there, even a bit cooler which Jack appreciated. Her nose wrinkled at the smell, though; it was musky like old shoes. She looked around at the sparse furniture and eyeballed a likely spot to drop her pack when another hide parted near the back corner.

Out walked a female as big around as a house. She paused and fixed Jack with a squint before waddling slowly in her direction. "You are the human. The one Grunt asked for."

"Yeah, that's me," Jack said, her eyes wandering over her dimensions.

The Krogan's wide lips curled in a grimace that Jack figured was either amusement or an impending attack. Turned out it was legit fucking joy.

"You are welcome!" she exclaimed in a unique, gravelly voice while folding her scaly hands. "Leave your things with me. You will shelter with us." One of her hands smoothed over her distended belly as she continued, "I am Griksar, mother of Grunt's brood."

_Well that makes sense, _Jack thought as she put on a smile. "Congrats," she said carefully while holding up her satchel. "Will be good to talk to you but I think Grunt's got work on his mind. Where you want it?"

In answer she walked forward and held out a clawed hand. Jack looked at it, wondering if she should act, you know, considerate of her condition or some shit; but when the Krogan tilted her head and pitched a brow she handed the bag over without a fuss. Before she could let go of it, the woman's other hand grabbed hers, quick as a snake, and pulled her close enough to realize female Krogan breath was just as bad as their male counterparts.

Griksar's eyes took on a weird gleam as she spoke. "You're bigger than you look in the pictures," she murmured, followed by a short harsh laugh and a guttural, "Good." Then she just let go, turning to waddle to the back room with Jack's gear slung over her forearm.

Jack's brow wrinkled in confusion but after a moment she shook it off and went back outside, where Grunt waved her over to begin a circuit around the site. He didn't say much, though, and as far as Grunt went that meant he was depressed.

Of the options before her, Jack considered some kinda humor as a distraction for him; but walking through the first clanmeet circle and seeing tense expressions on the Krogan faces there persuaded her to choose intimidating quiet instead. Seemed the least likely way to lose your teeth.

One by one she met the clan leaders who'd gathered. Jorgal, Thax, Drau….too many names to remember, but mostly there to pay respects. Others seemed hell bent to test limits and during one argument that came to an end with a stupendous Grunt headbutt Jack noticed that the clans for and against Urdnot seemed to be in alternating groups around the central section so neither side could congregate. Someone had planned the gathering carefully and Jack'd put her money on Bakara for that bit. As far as how they read Jack being there, well, most of 'em didn't seem to recognize her. They looked, of course, her being the turd in the punchbowl, but the focus was zeroed on Grunt and Grunt liked that just fine.

The talk was boring for the most part with lots of "He was a strong leader!" and "Clan whatever stands with Urdnot!" though some of it seemed sketchy. Then there were the ones who gave absolute zero fucks; the ones who just watched without saying much of anything. Of all the reactions to Grunt's attempts to talk, these gave her the most jeebs and the next Krogan in line fit the part perfectly.

She'd seen this guy before, on Omega. Clan Ganar had ties with Blood Pack going way back and Jugas loved reminding people about it, especially when things weren't going his way; which made this suddenly silent loudmouth an extra dose of worry. He didn't even look at them when they approached, though his krantt kept advantageous positions around them both. The clan leader's vision was locked on a passing female instead.

"Jugas," Grunt growled as he came to a stop before him. He was ignored. Then Grunt slid to the right, directly in front of him and blocking that view.

"Whaddaya want, whelp?" Jugas asked, still not acknowledging he was even there with his eyes.

"Heheheh," Grunt laughed, "Oh I'm just taking people's temperature. Can do it rectally if you want." The last was said with a smile, which finally got his attention.

After a squint of the eyes and a moment of them staring back and forth intensely Jugas also laughed. "You think I'm scared of you and your pet mouse here?" He turned to look at her now. "Yeah, I remember you, squeaker. You might frighten the vorcha in their dark corners but you got another thing comin' with me."

Jack's lips curled in amused derision and she tilted her head in curiosity while staring a hole in him.

Jugas looked back to Grunt but snapped back to Jack when she shifted her weight back on her right foot. Seems he was plenty concerned about her after all. "Look at the pair o' you, stepping up to get knocked down. You got somethin' to say to me, runt?"

"Nah," Jack huffed with the same expression. "Just wondering if your brains are the same color as the shit coming out of your mouth."

When he reached for her throat she took a quick step back and _reached _out to grab his leg with a Lash. Krogan for the most part were too heavy to sling around but that weight played against them, too. A leg she could yank pretty easy…and down on his back he went like a sack of potatoes, cursing all the while.

Weapons trained on her and she snickered while Grunt stepped in front of her. "Aww...what, all that hardware for little old me?" She taunted while they growled. "Whatta buncha bitches."

Grunt stood over him and added, "Jack is one of my krantt. You wanna start a fight just let me know what you want done with your corpse."

Jugas chuckled and picked himself up. "How many humans you _got _in your krannt, Grunt? You keep screaming, 'I'm Krogan! I'm Krogan' to everyone who'll listen but when it comes down to it you're just a dancing varren on a leash. Now that Wrex is dead who holds it, huh?" He waved a thick arm around the crowd. "Nothing but females around you now, boy, and I've got lots of hungry brothers."

Grunt leaned forward angrily, one ugly mug next to the other ugly mug. "You comin' at me, Jugas? I'm standin' right here, egg spooge."

"I don't hafta come at you, pup," Jugas said in a voice so festeringly sweet the hair on Jack's neck stood up and took notice. "By the time Dulak finishes with you, there'll be plenty of pieces to chew on."

"Welp," Jack interrupted before looking at Grunt, "Guess we know _this _asshole's temperature, huh?"

"Yeah," Grunt agreed, relaxing into a normal stance, "That's one steaming pile. Let's go."

"Good luck on your visit!" Jugas laughed with the rest of his kin as Jack fell into step behind her friend. "Hahahahah!"

They'd gotten under his skin, which was the point; but Jack couldn't help but feel some unpleasant tingles about this trip to Tyr. Urdnot's enemies clearly knew their next move and for all she knew were helping set up an ambush. She bit off any comments while they met the last few clan leaders, though, staying frosty until they'd meandered back up to the platform where a few Krogan dressed in strange garb gathered.

With them was a female Jack immediately recognized as Bakara, who sized her up with a grim look while waiting. "You came," She said without preamble when they approached. "Foolish. And brave."

The chieftess was wearing similar garb to the first time Jack met her, though in the red and yellow of Clan Urdnot now rather than inky blue. She looked a bit wider than Jack remembered, which made her wonder if every single female of the species wasn't pregnant at this point. She guessed she couldn't blame them, what with being nearly extinct just a few years ago.

"You don't know me well," Jack began. "If you did you'd know I'd never miss a chance to show up Grunt's puny ass."

Grunt chuckled beside her despite himself and it made Bakara's red-rimmed eyes soften a bit, too. "Your fierceness will serve you well," she said while nodding. "How is Shepard?"

She couldn't help but feel like the poor replacement she was with the question but she straightened her back and adulted anyway. "She's good," Jack replied with a twitch of her lips. "Says she'll be out here as soon as she can and is sorry for the wait."

Bakara looked at Grunt then. "We can't wait for her."

"I know," he returned, then looked sideways at Jack. "But we're good."

Not for the first time in her life she felt like she was being talked over. "Hey, how about you tell me what's coming? Feel like my head is up my ass, here."

Bakara looked to the other Krogan within a few feet, who nodded and made themselves scarce. Once they moved away she began. "With Wrex's death there must be a new leader for the Krogan people." Jack nodded and Bakara continued, "When the rite of the Void is concluded, those that would vie for the title will make themselves known. Many are from within Urdnot because we have absorbed so many other clans. We expect that to proceed without incident. There is another, however, who will undoubtedly lay claim but is currently Krassus to us. A traitor who kills their leader in order to take power."

"Um.." Jack interjected, "Pretty sure that's been done before. A lot."

"If they'd just killed Wrex it would be one thing," Grunt explained. "They killed many of our best on the Crakador; important people from dozens of clans. It's not just Urdnot calling for blood."

"Okay?" Jack shrugged, "So why does he even get a say? Why don't you just mount up and take their heads off their shoulders?"

"Because the son of the traitor is claiming innocence," Bakara added solemnly. "With his father dead, Dulak looks to him and he says he knew nothing about the plot."

"And he won't come here because he's afraid you'll just kill him," Jack said with both of them nodding in agreement. "So this kid takes over his clan what, a week ago, and he's gonna throw his hat in the ring to lead the whole shebang?"

Grunt chuckled, "He's no kid, Jack. He's over 600 years old."

"And now in control of one of the mightiest clans in the alliance," Bakara added. "We must determine his guilt. If he is innocent as he claims, he is a real candidate to lead. If not…"

Jack sighed, "If not, you gotta make 'em pay. Hard to do without a leader." She chewed her lip for a moment, then squinted her eyes and leaned closer to them both, lowering her voice. "But what about Urdnot? Don't you guys wanna stay in charge?" Her eyes shifted over to Bakara, "You got a favorite?"

The Krogran dropped her gaze sadly. "That is a hard topic," she began, looking over to Grunt. "We had plans once."

Grunt met her gaze and grunted softly before turning to Jack. "Wrex had a vision for the Krogan. Almost nobody agreed with him but they couldn't argue with success. He was making something bigger, making _us _bigger. Bakara saw it. I saw it. If anyone else takes the reins it's gonna be a shot in the damn dark."

Jack looked back and forth between them thoughtfully. She didn't need her hand held to know they could never come out on top. Bakara was a woman and Grunt was 6 years old, no matter how much knowledge of the past had been passed to him through a fucking tank. The Krogan had made progress under Wrex's rule but that was a bit like saying a stick worked better at beating someone to death than your bare hands. There weren't going to be any concessions given for them in this place.

Speaking of concessions, Jack watched Grunt put a comforting hand on Bakara's shoulder and only then did it occur to her to have a bit of respect for the fact that Wrex was fucking _dead _. God damn she had a bad case of tone deaf.

"Listen," Jack said in as bright a voice she could muster that didn't stick in her throat, "Let's eat this shit sandwich one bite at a time, yeah?" _What the hell, _she thought to herself. _When did she start saying 'yeah' after her fucking sentences? That was a Miri thing. _"We figure out this thing with Dulak and you two'll have a lot more cred when it comes to picking out a new king."

"Heh," Grunt chortled, "That or things'll go to shit so fast we won't have time to worry about it."

Jack grinned grimly and met Bakara's gaze once again. "Great. So this is me shutting up and letting you guys have your grief."

Bakara dipped her chin, clearly struggling with emotion, and as she called her attendants back over, Jack's little shriveled black heart surprised her with the thought that she should've said something nice about the guy. He was decent to her, after all. Honor among bastards or something.

Or maybe she just needed a drink.


	12. Chapter 12

Jack's face burned with the overbearing heat of the fiery pillar. She'd watched the Ritual respectfully, having been advised she was the first alien to see it, but truth be told she tuned the shit out pretty quickly once Bakara made her tribute and the shamans started monologuing. The pyre reminded her of London, and the Ryncol brought back all the faces.

The detachment was new, though. Maybe it was just getting lost looking into the flames or the hypnotic drumming and chanting all around her, but the memories didn't hurt so much anymore. Almost felt guilty for it for a hot second; the idea that you only mattered to someone until they shrugged it off and judged it a fucking improvement. So she said their names to herself and pictured them firmly in her head, one by one, swearing to the same Void the Krogan invoked over and over that they meant something. That they weren't lost.

By the time the ceremonies ended and she was good and drunk she figured she'd atoned, so she lifted her wildly shifting gaze to Grunt who'd found his way beside her. He had the same thousand mile stare going and she briefly considered stumbling back to his quarters to pass out and leave him in peace; but her mission and his earlier words made her reach out to give his mounded shoulder a shake.

"Hey," she slurred, then repeated it louder, shoving hard enough against his weight to throw herself off balance, "Don't we gotta leave?"

Grunt nodded and looked up at the aging flame one last time before turning toward the Urdnot compound. He was silent until they were about to enter; then he paused and looked at Jack. "Stay here. Wanna say goodbye."

"Alright," she said quietly, sniffing from the dust and ash and running the back of her wrist over her nose to scratch it while trying not to imagine Grunt and his mate actually kissing. Eugh.

She leaned back against the warm concrete wall and turned to watch Bakara speaking in a low rumble to those who came to offer their support. There was a crowd of Krogan around and near her and she made sure to say something to each of them even though Jack got the feeling she wanted to be anywhere else. As much as Wrex might have been the strong leader that the Krogan wanted, with a clever mind and a vision for the future, and as much as Shepard might have given him the one thing he needed to turn his enemies into friends, she suspected that Bakara's slow and steady wisdom kept the wheels turning after all the dust had settled.

When Grunt came out with both of their packs, the chieftess turned to look at them with sadness and determination mixed on her face. Grunt nodded once before heading off in the direction Jack had originally come and she fell into step, still watching Bakara until she was well behind.

The Krogan 'spaceport' was just a really big stretch of nothing with few enough broken buildings and boulders to let their ships land without causing damage. That being said, there were a butt-ton of ships there, separated by strips of road big enough to allow refueling and repair trucks. It took them half an hour, but they finally reached a frigate with Krogan wearing Aralakh badges milling around the lowered access ramp.

The walk had cleared her head, thankfully, and she was eager to get underway; so she was surprised when two armored Krogan blocked her way to the stairs.

"You wanna clear a fucking path?" Jack growled, only to have Grunt put a clawed hand on her shoulder.

"We're not taking that ship, Jack. This way," Grunt said.

Jack turned to look around for another ship that looked ready to depart and only saw small craft scattered about. "Where?" she asked in confusion.

They walked around behind the frigate sized ship until she could see light spilling from the entrance of a small freighter. It was completely nondescript except for some hastily painted Krogan letters in Urdnot colors on her side.

Jack stopped in her tracks with a knit brow. "You gotta be…." she started before looking at her friend.

"What?" he said with a sardonic smile, "She'll get us there. No guns means no threat. You too good to travel coach?"

"No..I mean…" Jack looked around and lifted her hands incredulously. "Why aren't we riding with Aralakh?"

Grunt grunted, "Aralakh's not coming." Then walked over to disappear inside while she stood there, flummoxed. Another Krogan walked past her toward the gangway, dressed in a Shaman's robes. He turned to look at her with a hideously scarred face and laughed loudly at her expression before he too boarded the freighter.

Jack took a deep breath and sighed, looking longingly at the frigate with the nice brutal pulse-cannons on its wings before shifting her pack on her shoulders and following the pair.

"Do you know how many ways this isn't a good idea?" Jack snarled as she slung her belongings under a bench in the back. When she stalked to the cockpit she spat, "Did you even bring a fucking gun? You're not fucking Gandhi."

Grunt and the shaman looked back at her from their seats. "Who is Gandhi and why would I fuck him?" he asked.

"Answer the damn question!" she cried.

Grunt shook his head. "No, I didn't bring a fucking gun. I brought him," he said, gesturing to the shaman with a thumb.

The shaman lifted a hand in greeting, smiling with misshapen lips on a face that looked like hamburger. "I am Charl," he gurgled.

Jack guessed his tongue was as mangled as the rest of him and recoiled an inch before retorting, "You're ugly is what you are. You got a bomb hidden on you or something?"

"No," he said simply, shaking his head.

"Then what _good _are you?" she shouted in his face before turning to Grunt. "Grunt," she said in an angry voice, "Talk to me, man. What the fuck are we doing?"

Grunt murmured a flight checklist to himself as he flipped switches and pressed buttons. "Charl is a Holy Man," he said when the whine of the engines became audible. "He knows the laws and the rites and will be overseeing our talks. If they kill us, he'll take our bodies back here and report what happened."

"He'll….oh that's just great! At least they'll know we got murdered like good little morons," she protested. "And what if they kill him too?"

"If they kill me," Hamburgerface added calmly, "The Krogan will rain fire upon Dulak until they are nothing but ash."

Jack ran a hand over her face trying to maintain some semblance of calm. "Perfect!" she growled before kicking a rusty bulkhead hard enough to leave a dent. "I know _I _feel better!"

"Shut up and get some sleep!" Grunted called loudly over his shoulder. "You're relieving me in 4 hours."

"Uh-uh," Jack said while leaning in between the pilot seats, "This is a shit plan and we're gonna talk about it right now." When Grunt shook his head, she pressed anyway. "Why are we even meeting these people on their own turf? Can't we find a nice comfortable place for everyone to point guns at each other?"

In answer, the Krogan lifted the freighter off the ground and headed toward orbit.

"I'm waiting!" Jack insisted.

Grunt pounded a side panel full of buttons with his left fist, then cursed and pressed some of them to silence the responding alarms. After, he turned..or tried to with that stump of a neck...to growl aggressively at her. "I've just spent 6 days trying to hold off a rebellion that could kill my family and my clan. I need some goddamned QUIET!"

The Shaman said nothing, but he didn't need to. The silent resignation in his eyes said plenty. She may not know why, but it was clear they didn't have a choice in this.

She forcibly relaxed and lowered her hands, watching the reddish brown of the Tuchankan atmosphere turn inky black outside the front viewport. "Allright," she said calmly. "4 hours, then I want some answers." Just to make sure she was clear, though, she pointed a finger at Grunt's nose. "This isn't just your life you're risking here, FYI, and I didn't sign up for another suicide run."

"Fine," he said with an alarmingly despondent sigh.

Jack withdrew to the cargo area and picked the lowest, darkest corner she could find.

With her back against the bulkhead and the thrum of the engines vibrating through her limbs she could pretend she was somewhere safe and boring. Didn't mean shit, of course, but she'd take any calm she could find against the adrenaline coursing uselessly through her fingers and toes. _Fuck _, she swore inwardly as she began cracking each joint in turn.

_Waiting sucks _.

"You have intruded on Lystheni Confederation Property," A clipped voice intruded on speakers outside the heavily armed compound on the surface of Bekke. "This is a violation of sovereign territory and reinforcements are inbound. Surrender. You will be treated fairly."

"As fair as sniping for my head the moment I stepped off the ship?" Ashley muttered while reloading, back rounded against the stacked canisters behind her to duck the pair of automated turrets near the entrance of the facility. She bent around the edge to shout, "I'm a Spectre, God dammit! Stand down!" After being answered with more weapons fire, she looked to her left and right, meeting Abercrombie's dark eyes and EDI's passive silver orbs.

"Looks like we're gonna have to do this the hard way," Mitch growled, a blue aura springing into being around him. Williams didn't get the feeling he minded all that much, his inevitable implant headaches given no more mind than a hangover the next day.

"Captain," EDI intoned calmly, "A strafing run by the Normandy should provide us cover to approach. I will disable the security systems through the access panel."

Ashley jerked her head left to get a look at the entrance before she was forced back into cover. "What access panel? I don't see anything."

"The access panel is 1.5 meters southwest of the entrance doors," she said, her expressionless face providing a valuable bit of reassurance. "Trust me," the android added when she hesitated.

Williams licked her lips then keyed her comms, "Joker? You get that?"

"Just give the word, Ma'am," came his response. "Haven't blown anything up for at least a week. Trigger's rusty and everything!"

"Knock on the door, Joker," Ashley panted irritably, "Leave the rest to me."

"Aye-aye!" he said enthusiastically, "ETA 30 ticks."

30 seconds later they were rushing the front, the covered doors silhouetted in an explosion while the turrets aimed uselessly overhead at the massive streak that was the Normandy SR-2. Williams and Abercrombie hunkered to either side of the locked metal door. EDI, however, had disappeared at some point during the mad rush.

When the doors opened, they waited for EDI to join them, only to be advised over their communicators, "Please proceed, Captain. I've found another entrance and will rendezvous with you in approximately 2 minutes."

Ashley's brow furrowed, her instincts telling her to stay together. Before she could say anything, though, EDI cut into comms again. "There appear to be sentry mechs posted throughout the facility. I will attempt to neutralize them."

She was right, Ashley discovered as they made their way inward. There were a lot of them. Each room they entered had half a dozen or more, throwing a variety of ordnance their way including flamethrowers and different types of grenades designed to exploit vulnerabilities in their armor and tech. Each time, their pace slowed to a crawl while they adjusted their strategies and each time the leftover sentries were eventually disabled by EDI, slumping or falling where they were along with turrets and mobile shields.

In the third such room, with Mitch and Ashley pinned down yet again, she keyed her comms. "EDI, are you able to globally disable these systems? This is taking forever."

As if to confirm her statement, Joker broke in. "Uh…yeah...half a dozen ships are loading up on the back side. Want me to engage?"

Ash started swearing, but any orders died on her lips as EDI burst into the room from the left, energy pistol blazing in her right hand. The android didn't even focus on the nearest mechs, her aim directed at targets across the room who fell with each well placed shot. At the same time, she was running past the original pair and after the last burst from her pistol rang loud, her left forearm shot out and clotheslined one of the duo. She stopped at that point, form curling into a clockwise spin and the struggling body of the clumsy defense mech becoming a bludgeon against the last of them, sparks filling the air on contact. It was all over in seconds, a brute display of strength and precision.

But Ashley's blood curdled in her veins at the sight, an unbidden but very vivid memory of EDI as Dr. Eva Core grabbing her by the faceplate and smashing the back of her head over and over flooding her senses. No, she reminded herself with several deep breaths. This was the EDI she had come to know...and trust.

The android turned and gave a curt nod to them both, adding, "Apologies for the delay. The bay doors are unlocked."

The Lystheni ships, however, were lifting off as the team streamed into the landing area. "Ok, Joker," she sighed into her suit mic, admitting defeat after regaining firm control on her emotions. "Convince them to hang around. We need to have a chat."

As the firing began above them, lifting away quickly towards orbit, Williams looked around. "Well," she said finally to the pair watching her patiently (while _definitely _not staring overlong at EDI), "Let's search this place and see what we can find for now."

Outside of the security area and administration wing they found empty labs and medical bays, the beds and tables all with worn restraints. They stayed quiet throughout, moving through each area with caution and hoping someone had been left behind that might provide some answers.

"Um," came Joker's voice while they were re-clearing what appeared to be the Command Center, "That could've gone better."

Ashley motioned her companions to defensible positions, just in case, then keyed her comms. "Sitrep?" she asked.

"5 ships down and 1 escaped through the relay," he sighed. "Orders?" he asked, clearly disappointed with himself.

"Did you identify yourself?" Ashley snapped.

"Yes, Ma'am," he replied. "Seemed hell bent on dying, if you ask me. I even told 'em all we wanted to do was talk but we had no choice but to defend ourselves."

"Captain," EDI injected, "I have discerned a pattern in the Lystheni's behavior from both the defenses in this base as well as the tactics of the ships engaged with the Normandy."

Ashley turned to her with narrowed eyes, "You were able to monitor the battle up there as well as operate down here?"

"I possess more than enough processing power to multitask in such a fashion," was her equanimous response. She continued without pause, "I believe the ship that escaped was the only one with organic life-forms aboard. The others attacked the Normandy using methods highly similar to mechanized defense systems. Their coordination and adaptability to changing conditions was...uninspiring."

Williams processed that for a moment. "So what you're saying is...they were decoys." At EDI's nod she tilted her head back and forth to relieve the tension building in the back of her neck. "Seems like an awful lot of money spent to protect a handful of people. Whatever they were up to must've been important."

"You want me to go after them?" Joker asked again.

She shook her head quickly, "No, I don't think so. They've likely gone to ground somewhere that'll put up a better fight. Do a sweep of the wreckage and collect any intel you can find, then come pick us up."

"Aye, Aye, Cap," He said. "Normandy out."

Ashley looked meaningfully at Mitch. "We need to figure out what they were doing here, pronto."

Abercrombie's chiseled face screwed up in thought, his dark eyes flicking around the environs before returning to hers. "Clearly some kind of illegal medical experimentation given the gurneys with binds. The Lystheni are pro-augmentation, which pisses off the homeworld plenty."

Ashley nodded in approval, but her eyes were still cautious. "And?"

"And…." he continued with a deep breath, "That means some of the 'patients' here might not have been volunteers?"

Ashley tilted her head slightly, letting him know he was a bit off track.

The young biotic's eyes squinted in frustration but focused quickly. "Okay, no." His fingers flexed on the handle of his drawn Phalanx, lips whispering softly to himself as he ran through the angles. His face suddenly relaxed and brightened in realization. "The Salarian Councilor sent us on this mission because it was important to her," he said fervently, "That means she has something at stake. Something...personal? Maybe some of the patients are high profile…"

Mitch was smart. Smart, strong and dependable….and in her weaker moments he effortlessly broke her heart into a thousand pieces. Moments just like this one, when his thoughtful gaze looked off into the distance just like….

The Spectre nodded in satisfaction. "Good. Very good." Her next words were rote, "Nothing happens in a vacuum."

The Lieutenant nodded quietly, though his lips twitched with pleasure at her approval.

She set them to pace again with her practiced calmface, clearing spaces until they came to the aforementioned medical labs full of beds with odd stains, disheveled bedding, and limp restraints.

"Alright, look around," she ordered. "Logs, records, databases, drives….find anything you can."

There was nothing written to find, they found, and after some lengthy hacking attempts by EDI on their infoterms she turned to Ashley with a blank expression that was still somehow discernible as frustration from the Android.

"All the terminals as well as the central servers appear to have been wiped, Captain."

Ash sighed. Seemed to be 'that' kind of day. "Because of course it was," she said with a shrug and arched brow.

EDI shook her head demonstrably, however, which drew her gaze once again. "There are disturbing conclusions to be drawn from these events," she continued.

That brought Ash short. "Explain," she said sincerely.

"Uh, Captain?" Mitch said in a muffled voice from a side room.

"Just a sec," Ash said a bit loudly in response, her eyes never leaving the AI's orbs.

"There are several complex systems for data analysis on this network," EDI continued, "Even with the most advanced security protocols in place it is unlikely such an efficient scrubbing could have occurred in the short time between our arrival and their departure."

Williams' brow furrowed, "So what are you suggesting?"

Abercrombie appeared around the corner and stood with his arms limp at his sides...whitefaced. Ashley took note of his stance but looked back to EDI expectantly.

EDI noticed the officer as well and answered simply, "The pattern suggests that the Lystheni knew we were coming."

Ash's eyebrows lifted at the idea, but turned to attend Mitch's obvious distress. "What have you got, Lieutenant?"

"Um. You should see this," Was all he said, his right thumb jutting behind him.

The pair followed him down a short hallway and toward a room so cold that vapor could be seen trailing out the door. Williams pursed her lips before she even turned the corner, the sight of rows of unmoving corpses no longer the troubling vision it would have been just a few short years ago.

"Well," she said, hand on hip, "If they knew we were coming, this is a pretty big oversight. Poor bastards." She keyed her comms, "Joker, tell Dr. Chakwas we've got a bay full of bodies down here. We'll need her expertise."

"Aye, Captain," he said. "I've got the Normandy waiting in the landing area. Oh, and a certain Mister Williams-Vega is requesting a callback at your earliest convenience."

"Noted." Ashley looked sideways at EDI. "Let me know if you find anything else?"

"Of course," she replied before moving deeper into the room.

"Hey baby," Ashley purred, her lips curling into a coquettish smile at the sight of James through the vidcall.

"¿Qué tal amor?" Vega answered with a crooked grin.

Something was off, though, she could tell. A reduction in his voice volume, the smile not quite making it to his eyes...things she'd learned over the past few years as warning signs. Habit made her look at call origination and sure enough, he was off-world.

"Terra Nova, huh?" She said, and he nodded quietly….eyes sharpening. They'd played this game before.

Regulations put in place after the war tightened restrictions on what information could be passed between Alliance Officers and Council Spectres, locking down the 'Shepard Loophole' as it had come to be known. Cooperation with the Spectre Corps was 'standard procedure', of course, but the brass had been burned once by that too-close affiliation and inserted a few dozen layers of bureaucracy to protect themselves; which gave the first ever marriage between a Council Spectre and Alliance Officer its own unique hurdles to leap.

"How's the weather over there?" Ashley asked as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

James smiled again, seemingly pleased she'd picked up what he just dropped. "Been raining for days," he groaned. "I swear if I didn't know better I'd say there was a Monsoon coming."

"Glad I cancelled my vacation there, then," she crooned.

"Oh no, nonono," he said with outspread hands, "There's something beautiful about the angry waves. I can't stop watching them."

"Dangerous place to be, hon. You sure you wanna be that close?"

"Oh it's fine. We've got big walls here to keep the water back. Although...you know there was this strike of lightning the other day?" Vega said with a mix of awe and regret, "Even though you'd been told the weather was clear, it hit two tourists on a boat and took them out in an instant." He snapped his fingers with a loud sound. "Get this, though. Someone took a picture at the same time and it was the weirdest thing…."

Ashley was struggling to keep up, her eyes tightening and her mind spinning as he continued.

"The light from this thing lit up all the blue water underneath….and there were _thousands _of fish down there, all illuminated. Thousands and _thousands." _

They met eyes then, while she processed. When she finally made the connection between Terra Nova and Tyr, the newly appropriated Krogan world, she could feel the cold, sharp claw of fear raking the back of her neck.

"In the open water?" she asked numbly and propped her elbow on the arm of her chair. "That's unusual."

"Yep," he agreed. "Needless to say there's a lot of fishermen headed out this way now, for when the weather breaks. You should come too. Might break your own record if you put out a line."

"Yeah," she grunted, "I've got this deadline at work, though. Not sure if I can get the time off."

"Babe," He said seriously, "Take a sick day. You'll wanna be here for this." Then he added, his eyes softening for the first time, "And I sure would love to see ya."

"You're right," she said tenderly, tucking her chin in the palm of her propped hand and curling her nails against her cheek. "We do need to make up for lost time."

"Have you ever considered actually _wearing _them? Clothes, I mean."

The blue hologram that represented EDI in the cockpit pulsed in answer while her physical presence was still on the ground investigating the Lystheni objective. "Clothing is generally invented for the purpose of protecting vulnerable flesh from solar radiation, extremes in temperature and minor environmental injuries. My body is made from a combination of bulk metallic glass and carbon fiber nanotubing that renders such protection unnecessary."

Sam looked over the panel separating the two pilot chairs at Joker with a wry grin. "You forgot something very important about clothing, though. It's pretty."

"And it….covers things," Joker said before adding hastily. "Not that I think you need to cover anything, 'course." He grinned and tacked on again, "Please don't."

"Ah," EDI intoned. "Sam, do you believe the wearing of clothing would aid my cultural integration?"

"Well I don't think it would hurt," Traynor said, examining her fingernails. "You could even experiment with outfits that fit with the culture of whomever you were talking with, you know? Make them feel more comfortable."

"Yeah but," Joker protested, "Then when she takes the clothes off, she'll be naked." When Sam gave him an impatient look, he tried again. "What I mean is, we all accept her for who she is now. If she starts wearing clothes and then just stops, all we'll see is that she's suddenly naked." He heard footsteps behind and turned his head to see the Captain approaching, so he lowered his voice to a harsh whisper before his eyes went back to his panel. "Like really naked. Is that what you want?"

"That is a fair point, Jeff. Taking on one cultural norm may imply an unintended acceptance of others, including the concept of modesty. I will think on it."

"Joker," Ashley said by way of greeting, "You find out anything about the Lystheni's potential destination?"

"Yeah…." he crooned doubtfully, "There's lots of pirate ports and mercenary bases around here, Cap. They could get lost pretty easy on Tortuga if they wanted. At the same time it's not like anyplace on that dirtball is tech central. There's been reports that the old Ahn'Kedar orbital platform may be in use again, though. That place was all about Batarian experimentation back in the day so it seems a good fit."

Ashley was nodding at the last. "Right, good. Open a channel to the ground team."

"Channel open," Sam reported professionally after a quick few button presses.

"Dr. Chakwas, status down there? How's it going?"

"I've performed a cursory examination of the deceased down here and an informal autopsy on one of the Salarian corpses," she said distractedly. "Captain, I'm no expert on Salarian physiology but it is very clear there have been chromosomal alterations in them all. Now that's not news, I know, given this group's particular beliefs about elective enhancements, but what's odd is that the alterations themselves don't appear to be the cause of death, at least on this one."

"Alright, then what was it?"

"Well, I'm collecting as much information as I can for analysis but there is significant necrosis around an injection site, similar to the other cadavers. The tissue in that area shows a _reversal _of the chromosomal alterations." Her voice trailed off as if she were still working and lost her train of thought.

Ashley chewed on that for a moment, before EDI spoke.

"What I believe she is saying, Captain, is that they may have died from an attempt to remove the enhancements previously made to their genetic code."

She shook her head, "Why would they want to do that? You think they might have been defectors from the Lystheni movement? Wanted to remove what made them distinct?" Then she shook her head again and outstretched a hand as she reasoned out loud. "No that makes no sense. If they were defectors, the Lystheni aren't going to _help _them."

"Maybe they were executed?" Joker offered. "They all got a shot and it killed them by making them normal again. Maybe it was a message."

Sam murmured, "They did leave the bodies behind."

"Nonsense," Chakwas blustered. "If you're going to execute people with an injection, you don't need to bring them all to the middle of nowhere to do it. I need some time to figure this out. In the meantime, let's not jump to conclusions."

"How much time do you need, Doctor?" Ashley asked.

"Oh, I can't do this here, Captain. I need a team of professionals with specializations in genetics as well as Salarian physiology. It could take weeks."

"That's the one thing we don't have," Ashley muttered. "Summarize your findings for my report to Councilor Esheel. She can decide what to do next."

"Aye, aye, Ma'am," Chakwas dutifully replied.

"I'll lay in a course for the orbital platform once we've packed up," Moreau said, but Ashley tapped her fingers on his headrest thoughtfully, making him pause.

If Joker was right and the Lystheni were holed up on Ahn'Kedar station it would take either a full out assault or a well planned infiltration to get what they needed. If Joker was wrong they had a long search ahead of them. With Chakwas needing weeks to pull together a conclusion from the bodies as well, the chances of getting back to help with the Krogan situation before the dust settled was looking pretty slim.

"Belay that," she said after a long moment of consideration. "We're going to Terra Nova."

Eyes widened all around and EDI queried, "That's a direct contradiction of our standing orders. Are you sure?"

"Oh I'm very sure," she said with a sparkle in her eyes, "I think Esheel wants us running around the Abyss for the next few weeks, and frankly? We've got more important things to do."


	13. Chapter 13

"Where we headed?" Garrus asked gregariously as he took the other pilot seat.

Shepard blinked and shook her head in consternation while the corners of her lips lifted. "You don't know where I'm going but hopped in anyway."

The Turian's piercing blue eyes slipped over to her for a moment before returning to the instrumentation. "Oh, they said something about rescuing Valern but Liara said I should get the details from you."

"Tali…should put you on a leash," she said with a pleasant smile before lifting off.

"Tried that," he replied matter of factly, "Single-handedly inflated the cost of replacement leashes so high we got complaints from the Admiralty."

Shepard huffed with amusement. "She and the kids going back to Rannoch?"

"She'd just call every five minutes, so no. They'll stay here for now so she can always get the latest."

She nodded, pleased. "Good. Liara'll love the company, too. Hopefully we won't be gone long."

"What's the plan?"

Shepard inhaled deeply and settled into a more comfortable spot, fingers lifting to scratch her forehead while she thought. "Well, looks like Tevos anticipated my help so they've set a few things in motion to get us started. Valern went missing on Sur'Kesh," she explained, "But they think the Salarian government might be behind it, so I can't just walk in the front door and expect to get their help."

Garrus motioned between the two of them, "Wait, we're supposed to go take Valern back from his own government? Bit of a tall order isn't it?"

Her eyebrows lifted and she nodded slightly in agreement. "It is. Thankfully the Salarians have internal factions just like everyone else. Clan Linron has maintained power up to now but word is they've got some pretty stiff competition."

His Avian eyes widened and his jaw plates spread. "And the enemy of our enemy…." Garrus crooned in satisfaction.

"Right. We're not going to Sur'Kesh. We're going to Mannovai."

"Never heard of it…but do we have time for this?"

"No choice," Shepard said with finality. "I've been told the Narra clan can get us the intel, support, and transportation we need."

"But why go to some backwater when we could just rendezvous on Sur'Kesh?"

Shepard sent an automated Spectre level jump slot request to Relay control; maneuvering their shuttle to the front of the long line of ships awaiting their turn to traverse the giant gateway to the Widow system.

"Apparently they're having a holiday," was her distracted response, "And the Dalatress isn't taking vid-calls."

"Figures," he grunted.

Garrus sighed wistfully as they made the jump, the view of the Serpent nebula doubtless bringing back memories. "Sure do miss rolling in here on the Normandy," he said before his head swivelled. "Hey, you think we could stop in for some of those Cora-Cora noodles? It's been years…"

The corner of Shepard's lip curled into a smile. "Sure, was gonna stop here anyway." She turned to meet his questioning gaze and said with no little excitement of her own, "Hey, I'm a Spectre again. I get all my toys back!"

Garrus simply laughed.

"You're right, though," she followed up, "We can't stay long, so keep a low profile."

"Right," he chuckled, "Like you can keep a low profile in Convergence Country."

"Oh I'm not worried about me," she said, "I'm worried about Bailey getting hold of you!"

Garrus groaned and ran his talons over his head fringe, "Crap, I forgot about that."

Shepard's eyes sparkled, "What, running C-Sec doesn't interest you? I think he's holding off on his retirement just so you can take your place behind that giant desk."

"Yeah well, I...don't really wanna talk to him about that right now."

She noticed the serious expression on his face and sobered a bit. "Something wrong?"

"Nothing _wrong, _but Tali and I have been discussing future plans and..well," he paused, flustered, "That's a strategic discussion. I don't need the added pressure."

Shepard blinked and scratched the itch on her forehead again, "So you really _do _want to run C-Sec."

His mandibles worked for a moment before he spoke, and his voice was softer, introspective. "I like to think of myself as a problem solver. It's what I do..what I've always done. Before we met I was frustrated with my job at C-Sec because I was prevented from solving problems by rules and regulations but," he turned and looked at her, "Now I've been a politician. When we all thought you were dead a few years back I was angry at a lot of people, including your old boss, Anderson, for dropping the ball. It's only now after all this time that I understand that problems are currency for politicians. They haggle and they trade the solutions to those problems but sometimes, in the end, it can't be solved just because some key person wasn't sufficiently _compensated _." His eyes bored into hers before he shook his head. "Anderson couldn't get the job done because that's not how he thinks. It's not how I think."

Shepard nodded. "It was a mistake, putting him in place as the Councilor. Took me a long time to realize that."

"Oh I don't know," Garrus offered, "If he'd been on the Citadel when the Reapers attacked Earth he'd have had a much larger impact on the galaxy's response." He held up a cautious hand, "Not that he didn't have a huge impact on the ground there, too. I have tremendous respect for him, you know that."

When she nodded soberly he continued, "Anyway, I have a much better understanding of why things work the way they do now...and if were in charge of C-Sec I think I can streamline some of our processes and get back to solving problems the right way."

"Well," Shepard said fondly, "I'd hire you."

"Great," he said with a grimace, "Now I just have to convince Tali to leave her homeworld again."

Shepard turned back to the controls and got clearance for docking, murmuring, "Afraid you're on your own for that one. You want to hang out on the shuttle while I get my things? Bailey's monitors'll light up like a Christmas tree the moment you go through security."

"Sure, just get me some of those noodles?" He asked hopefully.

"No problem."

Shepard was smiling a lot at passers-by; enough that her face was hurting by the time she turned the corner, and she heaved a sigh as she was scanned and then allowed entry. Once in the cool, dark, familiar confines of the Spectre office she felt herself finally relax. She was alone as was often the case here, Spectres spending much more time in play out in the galaxy rather than in the office. She took a few minutes familiarizing herself with the new technology throughout, but eventually normalized on the new steps necessary to get her access to some of the most valuable intel in the galaxy. It never failed to please her that in many cases that data was outdated compared to Liara's. What didn't please her as much was not being able to find which Spectre had been assigned to the Tuchanka situation. It reeked of back-room deals but she couldn't be too offended, considering she was here on just such an arrangement.

She focused instead on requisitions, swiping through the latest and greatest equipment lists available to her while trying to ignore the loudly (to her) thrumming pull of the Convergence groupthink here on station. It was constant; and unlike the first time she heard the call with its bright spikes of intensity and need during the war it now had the regularity of a heartbeat, lulling and calm. It felt like waves of the ocean to her, beckoning, and in between running the latest damage numbers for ammunition at specific range or the hardiness of the latest armor versus various kinetic attacks she felt her own pulse falling into a similar rhythm.

She could feel them all around her, warm glowing embers sensed through the walls of various offices and walking down the embassy hallway. They'd all looked at her oddly as she moved through the crowded ward to get here, likely wondering why they could sense her and yet not _reach _her. It was the reason for all her vapid grins and nods...a reassurance provided just so she could get to her destination without being sidetracked with uncomfortable conversations.

She'd picked out the last of her equipment and was about to complete the transaction when she realized one of those presences had stopped outside the Spectre office door. She paused, turning her head to look over her shoulder even though she knew she couldn't actually _see _them, and heard an urgent rap on the solid metal frame. She considered ignoring the intrusion but after a moment curiosity got the better of her, so she strode to the door and opened it.

Before her was a crisply dressed man, tall enough to make her crane her head upward. Even marked with the lines of middle age she noted his dark skin, green eyes and aquiline nose before memory crashed into her present, overwhelming her with the sights, sounds and sensations of a long ago feckless youth.

"Aaron?" she asked, brows furrowed and suddenly lacking breath, "You're…..alive?"

His expression was both tender and pained, earnestness ever his signature. Those eyes glued themselves to hers before he nodded with a slight incline of his chin. "How are you, Jor?" he queried softly as if the words were something holy.

"I…" she fumbled. That name for her, the lilt of his accent, the deep familiarity of it brought a lump of nostalgia to her throat before could stop it. "Fine," she managed after a moment, "I'm fine." It took another moment for her to connect the fact that he was in the Convergence, which only served to confuse her further. "How did you?" she started, then "Did _they _tell you I was?" followed by a shake of her head and finally, firmly, "What can I do for you?"

"Yeah," came his answer with an amused gasp, the crooked smile on his face lighting up his eyes. "_ They _told me," he said, the Irish clip of the consonants in his words making her smile in return. "Long time ago, in fact. I was just.." he continued, gesturing back down the hall from where he came, "Running some errands for Earthhome when I felt," he stopped and cleared his throat, "Well, when _we _felt you come in."

The memories hadn't stopped parading in the back of her mind while he spoke, a stark reminder of a time before the Reapers when all she had was guilt over the death of her family, anger at herself and the Batarians, and the Alliance to steady her course in life. Interspersed were all the things she did to make herself feel better in the short term; all the drugs and the alcohol and one Mr. Aaron McPhee. He'd been worldly and clever and so very very strong when she'd met him...and those just happened to be things she needed most in her life.

She realized after a second that none of the words she was considering had actually made it out of her mouth, but he thankfully took the pressure off her with his calm, confident voice. "Listen, wouldn't normally have bothered you but you should probably come with me before you make any changes in the Spectre database."

There, that was normal. Expected. Her mind and mouth started working again. "Okay, why?"

He looked around before motioning down the hall, so she obliged and fell into step with him, the door sliding shut behind. He spoke in a low, bored tone and she supposed it was for the benefit of anyone who might be watching. "Given the potential risk of diplomatic incident on your current task, we think it prudent that as few people know of your involvement as possible, other Spectres included."

Shepard blinked and answered back in the same bored tone, "I need Spectre grade from requisitions."

"I can get that for you. Where're you docked?"

"E64," she said before looking sideways at his profile. "Your vocabulary's had a pretty big upgrade since the last time we talked."

He tilted his head with that same cocky grin, nonplussed, "Yeah? Well you've done pretty well for yourself, too."

She kept her expression as neutral as possible while her emotions raced. "How the hell did you get mixed up in all this?" she motioned around them to the Citadel bulkheads, "Last I heard you were slinging narcotics out of Binthu."

He shook his head slightly, "Trade ran out pretty quick once Cerberus moved in and took up all the likely bases. Strange people, them Cerbs," he joked, "Immune to my shining persuasion."

He looked at her and she looked at him and she knew he returned to his old vernacular just for her. The whole situation struck her...that here and now, so far away, she could for a moment feel like the 18 year old she'd been on that deployment; feel that hardened innocence that had her dabbling in everything she shouldn't so she could, just for a moment, be in control of her own chaos.

Didn't take much to put 2 and 2 together as far as he was concerned, though. "You were smuggling on the god-damned Citadel," she remarked in shock.

Aaron huffed, his perfect mask breaking, "Not my proudest moment but god's truth, the money was good while it lasted."

"Who you working for now?"

"Officially, I'm working for C-Sec," he smirked.

"With _that _background?" she demanded a bit louder than she should've. At his warning look she calmed with a quick inhalation and scratched at the damn itch on her forehead.

"Who better to combat smuggling than the guy who knows the cracks in the armor?" After seeing the derisive look on her face, he added, "It's not like there's a trust issue, is there?"

Not with him being in the Convergence. He was right. She nodded slowly and asked, "Is there someplace private we can talk?"

"Course," he said amicably. "This way."

They took a left and went through a couple winding corridors before stepping into a small unused office with no view.

"What's on your mind?" he asked while taking a seat on the edge of the lone desk.

"To be honest I'd like to grab a drink and catch up but I have zero time."

"I know you've got to go," he acknowledged, "And I hope you don't mind that it was me that approached you. I was close-by and just wanted to see you."

"No, don't mind at all," she said, her lips curling into a smile. "I honestly had no idea you'd made it."

"Well you would've, if you'd just shared," he laughed. "They don't know how stubborn you are, though, do they?" He winked at her, full of memory and a smidge of offered promise. "Not like I do."

"Eh.." she chuckled, flattered; but held up her left hand with wedding band firmly attached.

He shrugged with that same alluring grin as if to say he had to try; that he'd always try.

She considered him for a fond second, pursing her lips. "Why'd you stay?" Then, to clarify, "In the Convergence, I mean."

"You mean beyond having a normal life not spent ducking the authorities, with a decent paycheck and benefits? Well…" He put his hands behind him on the desk to prop himself up while he chewed his lip, then looked directly at her. "The experience is actually pretty great."

"I guess I just never pegged you as one for community engagement," she quipped, eyes searching his.

"Oh I'd be lying if I said it was all easy," he admitted. "To have every part of yourself and everything you've ever done available for inspection by anyone at a moment's notice? The good _and _the bad?" He shook his head. "I guess what sets in after awhile is that literally everyone's done similar kinds of things, you know? You realize on a really deep level that they're simply…." he chewed his lip for a moment, "A response to stimuli. Once the guilt goes away you just..don't do most of that stuff anymore. It's not necessary."

"Not necessary?" Shepard followed up, "So do you only do things that are approved by the group?"

"We're not automatons, if that's what ya mean," he said, a hand reaching up to stroke his chin, "I still do some stupid things but the difference is there's no need for explanation. When I go tie one on or have a legendary night at Flux nobody questions it. They know all the reasons behind it and understand without me having to cover anything up."

She must have had a suspicious look in her eye because he gestured with that same hand to explain before putting it back on the desk. "There's no gossip, no…lies or manipulation of any kind. Can you imagine that?" he asked with wonder, "What a better world that is?"

"I believe you," she said evenly. "But what happens when someone does something serious?" Shepard asked with concern. "I know the Convergence has killed people to protect themselves. Where's the line drawn?"

Aaron's face crinkled in amusement. "If you're wanting a breakdown of Convergence jurisprudence we're definitely going to need that drink."

Shepard nodded with a wry grin. "Look, I know I'm springing all this on you," she admitted. "It's just...this is really important to me and I need to understand what the Convergence has become," Her eyes sparkled before she continued, "In 30 words or less."

They both chuckled and Aaron tilted his head, daunted. "Oh boy, okay. Short version. There's only one rule, and that's not to talk about us. If you plan or commit a crime that could put you in a position where you might talk about us is when we take action; and our first step is to work with you on the problem. Violence is literally the last option. Otherwise you go through the normal judicial system and we'll do our best to assist you within reason. We take care of our own, and it's not like you'll lack for work once you get out of detention, so there's no financial pressure for you to flip." He sucked on his bottom lip, eyes calculating before he spoke again. "The bottom line is...we're family. There's no problem we can't handle together. I know it seems like this radical sort of…._ thing _because it's so different than what you're used to. But when you're actually in it," he smiled brightly, "It's just a new kind of freedom."

"Way more than 30 words," she joked to his smirk, "But thank you. That helps."

"I wouldn't steer you wrong, love," he said, standing up and straightening his uniform. "That's obviously just a very small part of the whole, though. If you ever decided to share with me for more...I wouldn't say no."

She dropped her eyes in conflicted thought, memories of the pain caused by the Illusive Man and Saracino far overshadowing any good she recalled. She never stayed, though; never spent quiet time with the millions of others that meant harm to none. What did she know, really?

"I'll keep it in mind," she said quietly before straightening. "For now, I need my equipment."

"Then let's get that sorted," he said with a businesslike stride to the door. Before he opened it, he paused and turned to look at her. "Eh..this is gonna sound a bit daft," he said with a bit of embarrassment, "But… I'm proud of you, Jor. Damned proud."

It'd been a long time and she'd had much larger-than life mentors to emulate since their youthful relationship, but the praise made her feel warm anyway.

"Thanks," she said sincerely before smiling. "I owe you a drink."

As their shuttle approached the gas-giant named Haleguese, its HUD targeted one of the tiny diamond-glittering moons in orbit. It didn't bother Shepard at all for the moment that she couldn't actually see Sur'Kesh, floating somewhere behind Pranas' shining presence. Out of sight, out of mind for now, as far as she was concerned.

Mannovai was an outer moon, as far from the giant's roasting magnetosphere as one could hope but with outposts still heavily shielded and partially underground. She'd visited many moons with shielded installations over the years and was expecting more of the same; so she was surprised by the two massive rings surrounding the satellite at intersecting angles that grew into view. The closer they got, the more apparent it became that they were artificial and inhabited. Very...inhabited. The sheer amount of traffic moving in and around them as they spun around the moon was head and shoulders above the volume actually going to and from the surface. It was clear that the vast majority of the population of Mannovai was in the rings, themselves.

"Now ain't that somethin'," Garrus muttered from his seat, sharing her curiosity with a tilt of his head before tapping at his panel with interest.

The moon itself was surrounded by clouds, no part of the surface visible to space. There were clusters of lights glowing dimly beneath them in places, along with some telltale terraforming towers peeking out of the murk at uniform distances from one another.

Shepard followed the shuttle's guidance path to bring them beside and at the same speed the closest ring was turning. When that settled into something appearing normal she was directed to a landing bay.

While performing maneuvers, between the crowded flylanes and tight corridors, Garrus straightened in his chair, eyes incredulously wide when his head turned to her. "Did you know there's over a _billion _Salarians living in these rings?"

"What?" she exclaimed while trying to focus on her landing on the large open flight deck. "That can't be right."

The Turian kept reading, then hummed in understanding. "Says here these platforms are 5 kilometers wide and the circumference of the moon is 11,500 kilometers. There's also two rings so….." He did the math in his head, a claw coming to his lips in thought. "Oh, can't forget the orbital distance factor which makes the true circumference about.." He glanced over to see her smirking while he mathed out loud. "What?" he protested.

"Nothing," she replied, the smirk abiding while she shut the shuttle down. "I'm actually impressed."

Garrus hmphed. "Now where was I?" he muttered to himself before snapping his fingers. "Right, so roughly 12,500 times 5 times 2 is 125,000 square kilometers of real estate up here. That's...amazing."

"Pretty dense population, still," Shepard countered, but not without grudging respect. "I'm guessing we won't be seeing much greenspace."

Her Spectre credentials came in handy once again in customs and the pair bypassed hundreds of waiting Salarians, eliciting groans of frustrated envy but also the occasional gasp and hurried whisper of recognition. There was no hiding her galactically broadcast profile or her bright shock of red hair in a place like this. _Should have brought my damn hoodie after all, _she admonished herself, and pulled up the collar of her coat as high as she could manage without tearing the fabric.

Thankfully they weren't pelted with foreign objects like she'd feared and managed to turn the corner toward the exit without incident. She glanced sideways at her friend and Garrus grimaced in what passed for an encouraging smile when they heard a call behind them. She stiffened and turned with a tightened jaw to see several of their host race jogging to catch up, one of them waving frantically.

"Shepard?" Another of them repeated in a decidedly female voice as she approached, "Jordan Shepard?"

She sighed and waited for the group to arrive, putting on her most diplomatic smile. "I'm Shepard," she confirmed.

The female before her was dressed elaborately for a Salarian, with colorful robes and several shining bands rising up from her shoulders and around her throat, accentuating the graceful length of it. Unlike most of the Dalatresses Shepard had previously encountered, her skin was smooth and unmarred with wrinkles or scars. She was clearly very young.

"I am Narra Irrum," she said breathlessly, "I'm here to take you to the Dalatress."

"Narra," Shepard repeated thoughtfully. "Are you related to her?"

"She is my mother," Irrum said, smiling.

One of the males stepped forward, his manner protective, "We have a skycar waiting, if you'll come with us."

With a nod, she and Garrus fell into step with them.

Irrum folded her hands as she walked. "I'd like to apologize on behalf of the Dalatress for the formalities you've encountered. We are celebrating Schaklass Day, a holiday the Narra clan holds especially dear."

Shepard swallowed the sense of urgency dogging her steps and answered politely, "We thank the Dalatress for taking time out of her schedule and sending her own daughter to meet us. I hope we'll be able to speak with her soon."

"Oh the pleasure is mine," the young woman said with a twinkle in her eyes, "I volunteered to come find you."

Her eyes widened at that, and she stole another look at Garrus before clearing her throat. "Is that so?"

"It is," she confirmed. "You've been rather elusive the last few years and I've always wanted to ask you a question."

All the conversations with reporters she'd ever spoken to came back to her then, and all their loaded questions. She'd always taken time to prepare for those interviews since the end of the war, to ensure her answers were as calculated as their queries inevitably were, but here she was, flatfooted. Hopefully the Salarian's youth meant the interest was a vacuous one, but she focused tightly against whatever was about to come her way.

"Go ahead," she murmured as neutrally as possible, but they'd arrived at the car and paused long enough to load inside, with Shepard and Garrus in the back and the diminutive Salarian in between them. Three discreetly armed males sat across from them, watching intently for any sign of aggression while the last of them drove in the front. Garrus nodded agreeably to the trio to make doubly sure everyone was in a relaxed mood before she began.

"While as a Spectre your responsibilities were for the preservation of the galaxy as a whole, you've spent a large part of your life defending the Alliance, Earth and humanity against anyone who would hurt them. You care for your people a great deal, correct?"

Shepard's brow furrowed and she tilted her head slightly. "Of course I do."

Irrum's expression softened with care and curiosity. "And yet in all the stories I've read about you, never once has it been mentioned that you went back to your own homeworld, despite the ceremonies they've held there in your honor. Why is that?"

The question surprised her and she was silent, not really knowing how to answer or if she even should. Even Garrus was looking at her with interest, though whether it was in her answer or her reaction she couldn't guess. "You seem to have done your research," she answered weakly, buying her a few seconds to think.

The Salarian girl nodded before adding, "I apologize if the question is too personal. To our people, birthplace and bloodline is at the center of who we are, so I'm simply curious why you seem to be avoiding them both."

"I can see why that might seem strange to you," Shepard answered after a moment of consideration. She didn't want to go into the politics of the thing; the fact that so many groups wanted to use her as a banner for their causes or beliefs or that the Mindoiran government had proven no different. "In our culture if you're born on a colony you can either be nationalistic about it or accept that you're just one of many people that came from many different places to start fresh. It's a fairly new colony, so because everyone I ever knew there died, my entire _bloodline _as you call it, I don't feel much of a tie to the place; but that's not a jab at the people who've built their lives there, the people who love their home. Does that make sense?"

"It does," she said softly, "Our clan has been here on Mannovai for so long it's difficult to think of it as anything but a permanent home, but that hasn't always been so."

Shepard nodded and scratched at her forehead before continuing. "To be fair, I do need to go back. I'll just wait until my daughter's a little older."

Irrum's eyes widened excitedly, "So she's been born! When?"

Relieved at the change of subject as well as the Salarian's apparent enthusiasm, she spoke animatedly about Athena's birth and first few days while they flew down the interior of the ring toward their destination. Turned out she was right about the general environment within them. The rings, as far as she could tell, were mostly industrial complexes interspersed with the living communities that supported them.

Gone was the lush foliage and low lying swamps of the Salarian homeworld; they'd made little effort to duplicate that environment here. At the same time, they had taken steps to soften the starkness of their habitat. The residential areas didn't rise as high as she would've expected, preserving a feeling of openness, and there was flora growing liberally on every available surface for beauty and scent. The skyglass was pointed toward the moon's surface, surprisingly, though there was a respectable view of Haleguese looming over Mannovai at present, it's size probably making it a frequent part of the starscape. When the terraforming was done and the moon became someplace that could actually sustain life it would be a beautiful vista.

Their skycar turned abruptly to one of the more ornate set of structures in sight, with buildings of various heights clustered around an open park. Shepard could see hundreds of people gathered there before the car settled down just outside of view.

"Welcome to Eeldich University!" Irrum declared brightly, and to her surprised pleasure Shepard could find no hint of deception in her face or words. "Come with me," she added as her attendants exited the car and held open the door for them. "My mother will be excited to see you."

Shepard certainly hoped so.

Most of the attendees were young, like Irrum, but that seemed normal as they were in a university. What was strange (although not so strange again, she realized, being in a university) were the clothing fashions. Most of the Salarians Shepard had dealt with previously had been soldiers, dignitaries and scientists. These were college age children, mostly male as their population was usually represented, and the clothing was varied and colorful, with wild accenting jewelry. There were even hats...oddly shaped hats that would have fallen off a normal head but stayed in place by hanging on the pair of cartilaginous horns all Salarians possessed.

Faces froze and conversations stopped around them as they made their way across the crowded fete, followed by a wake of whispers behind. The disturbance was noticed by a small number of Salarians at the top of a tall set of stairs, ending in an oversized set of doors into the great hall at the center of the university. They turned as one, with a female in the more recognizable hooded dress of a Dalatress moving forward with a hand outstretched in greeting.

The old habits pivoted Shepard's head around defensively one last time before she began to ascend; but the comforting weight of her sidearm paired with the shadow of Garrus to her left helped prop up the diplomatic smile flagging on her cheeks.

"Plotting your escape already?" Garrus crooned with a note of amusement, "You've never been one for small-talk, I'll admit, but I don't think it'll kill you."

"Well," she said with a slow exhalation, "We're on a space station, so we can rule out 'Weather' as a topic."

"And we've already met the fam," Garrus replied with a voice lowering in volume as they neared the top, "So I guess we're primed to dive right into politics and religion?"

"Perfect," she said brightly before accepting the Dalatress' hand.

"Jordan Shepard," the Salarian leader said in a smooth tenor that reverberated through speakers all around the park, "I am Dalatress Narra. We welcome you to Mannovai!"

The sound of hundreds of Salarian voices cheering, some even chanting her name, was startling. She turned her gaze to look over the crowd and lifted her other hand in a wave of acknowledgement before looking at Narra again. Knowing her words would likely be heard, though she didn't know immediately how, she chose them carefully.

"It's an honor to be here, Dalatress. Thank you for your kind invitation."

Narra turned toward the upturned faces of her supporters and lifted her hands as if in supplication to the sky. "Dalatress Schaklass gave her life to heal the fractures within her clan and ensure that her people could live in peace and prosperity. We honor her sacrifice by giving gifts to one another in friendship." The Salarian turned her dark jeweled eyes to look at Shepard once more. "You, too, have sacrificed much for unity. Your presence here is a gift to _me _, Shepard. Schaklass' peace be upon you."

"Peace be upon you!" Shouted the crowd in unison.

This was a new generation of Salarians, it dawned upon her suddenly. They were probably only 10-15 years old...and while that equalled maturity for their species, some of them could very well have been too young to clearly remember the war or the details of her actions in it. They were honestly and legitimately welcoming her here, and the realization was like the first cool breeze of fall after a blistering summer.

They were looking at her now, all of them, with expectation. She fumbled through her thoughts, trying to think of something, anything to say to express the hope she felt. Despite all the years and all the memories, good and bad, the old words still came back to her lips like reflex.

"And also with you," she said earnestly, and the crowd cheered.

Narra, for her part, smiled graciously then nodded to her compatriots before inviting the pair into the great hall. There, among the towering heights of molded plasticrete, her expression became more serious.

"Your timing is good. I had doubts you would come," she said without preamble.

Tevos' briefing hadn't mentioned any personal interest by the Dalatress, so she responded with a neutral, "Oh?"

The Salarian turned her hooded head to regard her, and she blinked her large eyes once, slowly. "You've been reticent to involve yourself in politics since you withdrew from society. I certainly didn't expect you to take an interest in our internal squabbles."

Shepard's brow furrowed. "I'm afraid you've been misinformed. I'm only here to find Valern."

"Yes," Narra said musingly, "I'm aware." The Dalatress motioned to one of her aides with a flick of her wrist, and the male turned and disappeared into a side room. "While the goal is a noble one," she continued with a grave nod of her head, "The situation is more complicated than you may realize."

"You have intelligence on Valern's location, correct?"

"Correct," she intoned, watching Shepard patiently.

The Spectre glanced over at Garrus, who shrugged amicably. To Narra she said, "What's complicated about that?"

The door where Narra's aid disappeared opened once again and a familiar figure in fine clothing came into view.

"Hello, Shepard," he said, striding toward her while she tried to place where she knew him.

Garrus' eyes widened, "Rentola, right?" he asked, claw pointed questioningly. "You served with Kirrahe in the 3rd STG."

"Garrus Vakarian. I'm impressed," Rentola murmured, looking at Shepard as if to say he _knew _she hadn't remembered. He stopped before them, folding his hands at his waist. "Colonel Kirrahe sends his regards."

"Consider them returned," Shepard said gruffly. "But if STG is aware of the situation, why am I here?"

"STG doesn't normally involve itself in political disputes," Rentola said with a trace of bitterness, though he studiously kept his eyes on Shepard while Narra glared at him. "Valern's kidnapping, however, if that's what it is, crosses a line that cannot be ignored. It is, in fact, the lack of intelligence that STG possesses that is most concerning, and indicates that the perpetrator may have assistance from within STG, itself."

"And you need an impartial 3rd party to referee," Shepard added, lips twitching.

"All that we require," He corrected her sternly, "Is the stalemate broken." He shook his head slightly in disapproval. "I don't mean to disparage your accomplishments, Spectre, but your calling card is chaos, as I saw firsthand on Virmire. What we need is someone who will break protocol so we don't have to."

The anger that blossomed at his words brought the memory of him back, now; sullen and resentful every step of the way, even in victory. "Virmire was a success, despite the losses we both suffered," She rebutted, "And it was the result of a plan agreed upon by both parties…"

"We sustained 77 percent losses…" He hissed over her.

Garrus stepped forward as if to intervene, but Shepard raised a calming hand to him and turned once again to the Salarian while Narra looked on.

"Everyone on that beach knew the odds," She said quietly. "And I don't think your math includes how many lives we potentially _saved _that day."

He was silent for a moment, blinking rapidly in thought.

"Look, I get that you don't like me," She said without rancor. "And that's okay, but the bottom line is we have a Salarian life to save." Shepard waited until his eyes focused on hers before continuing. "Can you help me do that?"

Rentola looked between her and Narra and appeared to reach a conclusion, straightening and nodding once. "I….can."

Shepard nodded too, then glanced between both of the Salarians before her. "Good. So what are we looking at?"

"It will come as no surprise to you that we oppose Linron leadership," Narra began. "We've been enemies for generations...but that's not what this issue is about. It's about vision. They were wrong about the Genophage, wrong about the Reapers, wrong to withhold our military assistance in the war, and doubly wrong to attack Tuchanka while the rest of us were risking our lives for each other. They've been duplicitous for so long I don't believe they know how to act otherwise...and it's all to maintain power. I suspect Valern stumbled on something he shouldn't, and that's why he disappeared."

Shepard hoped that's all it was. "Dalatress Linron's been missing for years," She said confusedly, "Who's calling the shots for them these days?"

"We've been searching for the Dalatress and the fleet that went with her for a very long time. They finally declared her MIA 18 months ago. Their clan has been run by a committee of the highest ranking females since that time while they determine the next leader," Renkola explained. "I suspect the method is also being used to screen any one person from accountability for the clan's actions until they are ready to defend her."

"The Salarian people elect their leaders, I thought."

Narra rotated a hand and spoke, "We elect our clan leaders, who then form a representative government."

"So why is Linron's clan still in charge?"

Renloka hmphed, "While there may be some doubt about their decision-making, there can be no doubt about their political prowess. They've tied up the proceedings with every bureaucratic and legal loophole they could find."

Narra added on with a gleam in her eyes. "It's only a matter of time before the government declares a vote of no-confidence, though. A vote that will come to pass all the swifter if proof can be found of their malfeasance."

Of course, Shepard thought. It all made sense, now. Narra no doubt expected Shepard's personal grievances with Linron to 'encourage' her conclusions.

"Dalatress Narra," Shepard began, "While I am, without a doubt, sympathetic to the case you've laid out, I'm not here to topple the Linron regime. I'm only here to find former Councilor Valern, alive or otherwise, and bring information about the circumstances of his disappearance to the Galactic Council."

While Narra's expression soured at the accusation, Rentola's brightened unexpectedly.

"Of course. I wasn't expecting more," She said with a sniff. "I wanted you to be fully informed, that's all."

"Then we're good," She said with a smile that she hoped took the sting out of it all. She turned to Rentola. "Can you outline for me why you believe Linron's forces might have taken him?"

The male seemed suddenly keener to help, but she wasn't sure if it was because she'd shown she could be impartial or simply because she'd snubbed Narra. She'd have to be careful with him.

"The city in which he disappeared, Talat, is a Linron stronghold. Not much happens there of which they aren't aware. STG's orders also come from the sitting government...Linron's...so it's entirely possible that they are covering up the event in the name of governmental security." He watched her eyes squinch, then added with a calming twitch of his fingers, "And they may believe they are performing within the line of duty while doing so."

"Rentola," Shepard intoned carefully, "You're in STG. Why are you helping me at all?"

"If our good name is being sullied purely for political reasons it should be stopped," he said firmly, "No matter what the law might say about it." He took a quick breath, releasing it before adding in a tremulous voice, "Also...Kirrahe asked me to assist you."

She wanted to call them out for not giving a single fuck about Valern, but chose to ask a question instead. "I assume you have a plan?"

"Of course," They both said at the same time, and Rentola swung a hand toward the door he'd originally come from.


	14. Chapter 14

(This bit should be appended to the last chapter. Releasing it sequentially to avoid any confusion. Apologies.)

They all entered a conference room with a 3 dimensional plot of buildings covering the central table.

"This is Yiralani Center," Rentola began. "It has served as the headquarters for the Linron government for generations."

Shepard sighed and looked at the man with pained eyes, "Tell me he's not in there."

Rentola's lips tightened in what could barely be perceived as amusement. "No, we don't believe so. His itinerary on the day of his disappearance had him travelling to a meeting with donors for a charity he was supporting. That building is here," He pointed to a larger building on the outskirts of the governmental compound, which turned blue. "Former Councilor Valern was leaving from his overnight lodgings, here," he pointed again...and the map shifted away from them to a tall building on the opposite side of the center, which turned red. "Traffic was heavy, according to reports, and there is significant construction around the plaza. All we know is that he called for his skycar from his hotel room at 7 in the morning and the car arrived to wait. Valern never made it to the car."

"Mmn," she murmured with understanding. It seemed pretty clear why Clan Linron would be the suspect, and Narra was nodding and looking at the Spectre expectantly. "Something had to have happened for him to be taken this suddenly," she said musingly.

"Yes," Rentola agreed. "If someone simply wanted Valern there are thousands of ways to accomplish the task. It's unwise to commit such an act in this place, even if it was not the Linron clan. Scrutiny would be very high."

Shepard looked at him again, "But STG found nothing?"

The Salarian shook his head shortly. "His escort says that he exited his room toward the lobby, but stopped short and turned back," he replied. "One of his entourage went with him. They both disappeared. Footage of the hallway was suspiciously missing upon later inspection."

She took a deep breath and released it, thinking. She knew what steps _she _would take next but also knew she didn't have _time _for them. If STG was unable to ascertain the facts, she would also struggle. If STG was covering up the facts, she'd waste far too much time going through their ranks to determine the truth. Her eyes flickered to Rentola, and she searched her feelings about him. Kirrahe sent him. She trusted Kirrahe, but knew nothing about his political leanings. Her guts told her that even if he would risk his career on an attempted coup…he wouldn't risk her life.

"Where do you think he's being held, if he's still alive?" she asked.

"No official facility, legal or medical, has reported his presence alive or dead. If he's still alive," Rentola said slowly, "He's being held off-grid. The government does have a detention center for, ahem, sensitive questioning. Details about its residents are highly classified." He said with a shake of his oval head. "Higher even than Kirrahe's clearance."

Shepard ran the edge of a fingernail over the unrelenting itch on her forehead then looked between them both with a serious eye. "And what if you're wrong?"

The two Salarians looked at each other and then back to her, Rentola with grim determination and Narra with mocking disbelief. The Dalatress was the one to answer. "No one has the eggs to snatch so august a personage in broad daylight but Linron. No one."

"If you're wrong," Shepard pressed, "STG is gonna see that you gave me the way in, Rentola." Her green eyes pierced the darkness of Narra's hood. "And Clan Linron will know I've been here to see you today. You'd better be sure."

"Oh that is in fact the point," she replied archly, "But don't worry. Your presence here will also act as a distraction. You'll be giving a speech to some of our most influential members at the same time you break into their top-secret facility. It should buy you some time and confusion if nothing else."

At the questioning look in Shepard's eyes she waved a hand and said, "Let me worry about the specifics." Then she paused, tilting her head slightly and leaning in to peer at something on Shepard's forehead. "Though, we'll need to get some current images so your identity can be verified."

The Spectre's hand came up to the spot she'd been worrying at all day. "What's there?" She turned to look at Garrus who shrugged lightly.

"Insect bite?" He offered. "Whatever it is, you've scratched the hell out of it."

She pulled up her Omni, generated a reflection of herself and zoomed in on a blotched spot above her left eyebrow. She realized it wasn't an insect bite almost immediately...the shape was all wrong. This was an inch-long cut along her forehead in the same place her skin had split during the fight a few days ago, and it was reddened as if infected, with delicate web-like lines expanding from the area in a shade subtly lighter than her regular skin tone.

_Strange _. She hadn't had an infection of any kind since the Lazarus project. The spot had itched much longer than the sensations she was accustomed to when healing and this wound should have long ago disappeared. She'd just been so occupied she hadn't noticed.

She realized everyone was staring at her and closed the omni. "Well, it looks like I may need a bit of makeup," she covered smoothly, and the Dalatress nodded and snapped her fingers for an aid.


	15. Chapter 15

Aethyta never understood Liara's fondness for human coffee. It was so bitter that she piled other ingredients in until it became palatable, smiling her secret love smile while detailing just how _black _Shepard took it. Maybe it just made her feel better when Shepard was away. Fortunately, Aethyta's favorite tea, a spicy blend from Illium, had never left the household, even in the 50+ years she'd been gone. It was the one concession Benezia had shown her; a quiet sign that despite their disagreements she was always welcome and a practice Liara continued without skipping a beat. She was enjoying a cup now while the deceptively aromatic smell of Liara's crap filled the living area.

"So, obviously, best case scenario is that our testimony clears her involvement." The aged Asari extended a hand demonstrably from where she lounged on Liara's long curved couch. "Worst case, we have to prove just 'how' she's able to stop communicating in order to provide doubt, and frankly, we don't understand it ourselves."

"Leaving us with the alternative of documenting every movement she's made since the end of the war to prove she was outside the radius of communication," Liara murmured before looking at her father with no little frustration. "A difficult task, if it's possible at all. She's been in contact with multiple members of the Convergence…..she just doesn't share." The Asari sighed and stroked Athena's crest in her lap, swaddled in a blanket. She'd been understandably restless the last couple of hours, but had finally settled into a snooze, sucking contentedly on her thumb.

The Matriarch shrugged. "We've gone over this a hundred times internally and just can't seem to find another way around what we've asked her to do."

Liara nodded and tilted her head back and forth to release some of the tension in the back of her neck. "I know, I know." She looked at Aethyta with amusement briefly before adding. "I have to admit, some of the defenses you all came up with are very...creative."

They'd been bandying ideas back and forth most of the day, and not for the first time Aethyta had found the process of verbal communication frustrating, but at last it seemed her daughter understood.

"The Volus are always good for a laugh," she chuckled, shaking her head.

Liara stopped mid-sip and shook her own head, eyes widening before she could swallow and respond. "Someone should write a novel with it," she exclaimed, "If I thought twists and turns were enough to tire the investigators I'd give it my full support."

She snorted. "How do you think they get away with half their schemes? Still, If everyone bought it, they'd think Shepard had 6 different lovers."

Liara fairly giggled. "One of them an Elcor!"

They both laughed and took a sip, looking fondly at one another.

"It makes me feel better, knowing how much thought you've put into the matter," Liara said. Her shrewd eyes focused on her again and she couldn't help but feel uncomfortable. The gaze reminded her of every shenanigan her lover had ever caught her in. That was one Asari you couldn't get anything past.

"How do you do it?" Liara asked, and Aethyta's thought process took a moment to switch back to their conversation.

"Do what?" she retorted, feeling a flush of guilty color come to her cheeks.

"Remember all those details," Liara said, cradling her jaw in a palm. "You used dozens of legal terms I've never heard of from at least 4 different cultures. I could probably learn them if I wanted, but it seemed effortless for you."

Aethyta took a deep breath before answering. "The Thorian virus altered our DNA in several ways as you can probably imagine. One of them had something to do with how our brains store things. Shared information is recalled almost perfectly, now."

Liara arched a brow. "Almost?"

She shrugged, "Well, some of that data comes from our memory of things before we were infected. Memory isn't perfect. If you were the only one there and you remember it wrong, that's still the only record available."

"Interesting," her daughter mused. "I'd like to look at any data you have about the virus, if you please."

"Oh _now _you're interested," she scoffed. "Let's not incriminate you by putting that info on your systems, shall we?"

Liara shook her head, a wry grin curling one side of her mouth. "I _am _the Shadow Broker, remember."

"Ha!" she barked. "And since you don't have that information already you aren't omniscient just yet. If you still want it when this blows over I'll send it to you myself, how's that?"

Another expressive brow-lift from her daughter, this one admitting grudging defeat. "I suppose that's fair." They heard the raucous sounds of children from the front door and Liara looked over her shoulder with a smile. "Sounds like Tali's back."

"I wish I'd been around when you were that small," Aethtya said fondly. "I don't think Nezzy really knew what to do with you."

"You sought me out," she replied, returning her gaze to her a gentle love. "That's what matters."

The words brought her a swelling of pride. Aethyta hoped her daughter would remember the sentiment in the coming days.

"Why don't you let me put her down for a nap?" she asked innocuously. "I'm sure Tali's gonna want an update."

Liara's expression softened and she passed the sleeping baby over. "I'm delighted you want to spend so much time with her," she admitted. "That nap you gave me earlier was badly needed."

"I think I might stay for a few more days," Aethyta said thoughtfully. "I don't know when I might get back here and I think you could use a hand while you find your new normal."

"That would be…very helpful," her daughter replied, pleased; and she stood as the small bundles of Tali'Zorah's own happy chaos began streaming into the living room. "I really need to check on Miranda and Feron; find out what's been happening in my absence."

"You take the time you need, Wing," she said a tad sternly. "They'll yell loud enough if there's a problem."

Liara smiled softly, her eyes reflecting artfully feigned contrition. "Of course, you're right."

While her daughter turned and greeted her friend, Aethyta quietly walked Athena back to her nursery. Shepard had put a chair in there that rocked, and while she didn't quite get the attraction, the kid seemed to like it well enough. As she padded by the crib, her hand slipped lightning-quick just inside the railing, where she withdrew a tiny, empty nebulizer placed earlier in the day and tucked it away into a pocket.

They sat down in the wooden chair and Athena began to stir, looking up into Aethyta's smiling face. She felt the child begin to actively share with her again, then; the little one's lips going slack as her young mind voraciously began devouring the wealth of information. They rocked together there, listening to the distant sound of other children, a scene out of character from the life she'd led but one she took the time to appreciate now.

She couldn't tell Liara the other urgent conclusions the Convergence had drawn. She hoped her daughter would forgive her, but didn't hold out much hope. Her rejection would sting, no doubt; but what the hell, she was getting old anyway. If there was one thing Aethyta found she was good at after all these years, it was making hard choices.

"Ollie! Ollie!" Cried the littlest Quarian while tugging earnestly at one of Liara's pant legs. It was an amalgamation of the words 'Aunt' and 'Li' for Liara that never failed to make her smile, and while Tali was animatedly trying to calm the other kids while they swooped around the room she bent down to consider the tiny girl gazing so seriously at her through her rounded encounter suit.

"What can I do for you, Nira?" She asked with matching sobriety.

Her dark eyes lit with joy at the attention, and she extended her other hand up and up to her, the plush toy she was gripping offered with laughter.

"Topuss!" She declared brightly, and Liara took the toy, rotating it to see that it was some kind of creature she didn't recognize.

She heard Tali gasp, however, and her friend approached quickly, only to stop short. "I am _so _sorry," she said in a whisper, then bent down to her daughter with a tutting finger. "Nira, honey, Asari are _not _octopuses."

Liara looked at the cartilaginous arms extending from the bulbous body and her own hand subconsciously rose to slide over her crest. She looked at Tali and Tali looked at her and for a moment neither knew just how to react...until they both burst into laughter.

"You went to the Aquarium," Liara said/asked to Tali's confirming nod.

"Oh they loved it!" Tali exclaimed and the other kids confirmed the statement with their own squeals of giddiness. "There was a virtual tour of all known sea-life where the kids could pick which kind of creature they wanted to be."

"I was a Breyak!" Reegar announced, doing his best to imitate the large, aggressive creature from the globe-encompassing seas of Yamm.

Aurelia crowed about her role as one as well, the pair always competing. Missing from the contest though, as always, was the quiet Marus, who took a seat on one of the couches to open up his Omni to read.

Liara placed a kiss on the top of Nira's cloth-covered helmet before walking around to take a seat next to the 6 year old Turian. "And what did you choose?" She asked with interest.

"I was an otter," he said distractedly, pulling up a picture to display. "They are fast and smart. Nothing can catch them." The picture began to move, showing the sleek creature winding and twisting through and around tall sea-grass before cleanly snatching its prey.

Liara looked forward to the day she could take her own daughter to such a place and watch her preferences take shape. It would be years yet, though. She leaned closer to the boy and whispered, "Excellent choice," in a voice that brought his eyes to hers. They shared a meaningful look, and he straightened subtly with the pride her attention brought.

"It's late," Tali declared. "Time to get ready for bed. Reegar, make sure Auri properly brushes her back teeth…" Aurelia groaned but Tali continued, "And I'll be checking." She clapped her hands together and children began making their way to the back rooms, little Nira waddling after them, still clutching her doll.

"Heard anything?" the Quarian followed up, right on cue, before sitting beside her.

"Not yet," she said. "I was waiting for your return before trying them."

Her friend's face brightened at her words and she nodded, rising quickly and holding out a hand to help Liara rise. Even though she was feeling markedly better she didn't refuse the gesture and they walked down the hall together into her office, where a wave of her hand brought up both her monitors and Glyph's floating presence.

"Good evening, Dr. T'Soni," the soothing voice said, filling the quiet space.

She walked by the floating hologram and lowered herself into her usual chair, making some adjustments for her now smaller size before pressing a few keys to begin the calling sequence.

Shepard's face appeared onscreen and immediately smiled. "Hey there," she said, then turned her Omni so both she and Garrus could be seen.

His mandibles spread in greeting and he waved. "How's my favorite women in the galaxy?"

Liara's quick eyes took in her bondmate's dark surroundings and the fact they were armored while Tali replied.

"Just got back with the kids and we're settling in for the night," she said brightly, her eyes fixed on Garrus. She looked between them, then, understandably curious. "What's happening where you are?"

Shepard looked at Liara directly to answer, her grin settling into something more sober. "Well, " she began with a sigh, "We're on our way to Sur'Kesh."

Garrus was more gregarious. "They're smuggling us in on a freighter!" He declared with a huff of humourous indignation. "I'm putting my foot down if they start to roll us into carpets, though. I may not be important or famous but there are just some lines that can't be crossed."

Shepard grinned crookedly, looking sideways at her friend before Liara spoke.

"What part?" She asked seriously, drawing her lover's eyes back to her.

"Talat," She said grimly.

Tali hissed in frustration. "Of course it's Talat. Spirits forbid the difficulty be any less than insane."

"It's a good plan," Garrus interjected calmly, "And we've got STG working with us too."

Shepard, however, didn't look entirely convinced.

"What can we do to help?" Liara asked before adding, "I'll put my agents on standby, of course."

The Spectre's green eyes sparkled with thanks. "I need you to reach out to Kirrahe for me, discreetly." At the question clearly written on Liara's face she continued, "Just...confirm he put these wheels in motion, and get any information he's willing to give about what we're walking into."

"You're talking about Colonel Kirrahe of the STG," Liara sounded out patiently. When Shepard nodded, she said, "You just said you were working with STG. Is there a reason you can't ask him yourself?"

Shepard's eyes flickered compassionately to Tali, who was clearly not feeling comforted by the situation. "Not everyone in STG is onboard with this. Communications are compartmentalized."

Liara understood what that meant. It meant Shepard was working with a rogue cell and any knowledge about their activities would jeopardize their success. Keeping such a secret within the most dangerous intelligence organization in the galaxy, second only to the Spectre Corp themselves, would be no mean feat. She wasn't sure Tali would come to that conclusion with the limited amount of information just revealed, though, and wasn't keen on alarming the Quarian further. "I see," She said simply, their gazes locked. "Do you have everything you need?"

"I wouldn't turn down a biotic for the team," The human said with a wink. "But I think we'll be fine."

Liara's face warmed. Tali's reaction was predictable.

"Oh, fine!" She started with mock anger. "You'll remember me when you find a locked and booby trapped door between you and your prize and have seconds to disarm it, won't you?!"

"Oh darling," Garrus purred with admiration, "I am but a poor shadow of your brilliance but don't worry, we brought extra guns and explosives for just such an occasion."

The Turian's mate crossed her arms and exhaled, then leaned towards the monitor. "You be _careful, _Garrus Vakarian," she warned, "You have people depending on you, now. Don't do anything stupid."

Garrus' mandibles worked, his avian face abashed. "Wouldn't dream of it. Besides, I'm with Shepard," he crooned, turning to look at her with confidence. "Valern will be back for breakfast."

Her lover's eyes softened at the praise, looking as cocksure and confident as ever, but they never left Liara's; and they absorbed one another as much as one could through an extranet connection.

The ache of need she felt for her bondmate never quite left, even when she was near; but when they were parted it took on a life of its own, coiling torturously within and spiking her adrenaline with concern and a frustrating need for action of some kind.

"I'll let you know what I find out," She promised, and the woman nodded once.

"See you soon," Came the Spectre's final words before she disconnected.

Liara looked briefly down at her other hand and found her fingers curled into an unconscious fist.

Time to call an old friend.

"Insertion of altered code via nano-assimilation did appear to reverse the effects of the synthetic evolution," The coated Turian scientist droned from where his face floated on monitor 6. The expressions of his compatriots on the other monitors varied somewhere between relief and envy, their own reports being less than conclusive.

"Good work," Miranda said, her face and voice significantly altered via software to appear and sound like a shadowy figure with a male tenor voice. "Send me the details and your bounty will be transferred upon verification."

One face in particular looked displeased. "You have something to add, Piwon?" she calmly asked.

"Nothing," the Salarian spat, "Unless of course you consider what's already been said. Altering one instance of the evolution is fine but there are instances of several simultaneously, in concert and separate, as well as series of changes presenting in these patients. What are you going to do, bring every single patient in for every single occurrence and recode? You're talking about cradle to grave care for trillions. My people don't want a workaround, they want a cure and this isn't it."

Many voices began talking at once, some in support and some arguing that progress was progress.

"Quiet," she said in a low voice, and they acquiesced; none dared talk over the Shadow Broker. "I'll share the assimilation method once the results have been reproduced and you can begin your nullification efforts there."

"It won't _work," _Piwon insisted. "I've tried similar recoding methods. The surrounding cells become dependent on the nanites for their neurological functions. Shut down the nanites and those cells degenerate."

"Replace the prosthetic," she added in a bored tone.

"No, no, no! _All _the cells," He insisted. "The nanites don't stay in the prosthetic, they migrate and reproduce through blood and connective tissue. Normal function cannot be recovered before necroptosis occurs."

Miranda paused, her brow arching. "You didn't include this in your report."

The Salarian looked like he was about to choke, his face turning an odd grey color while he fidgeted.

"What was the result of your treatment?" Miranda pressed, feeling suddenly ill.

"As I reported," he said slowly, "100% failure."

There was silence for a moment, fear and anger vying for control of her emotions. This couldn't happen again. This couldn't be _happening again _.

"How many?" she asked, the ice in her veins managing to keep her face and voice neutral.

"14," he replied, licking his dry lips after the admission.

Dammit, she thought. God _dammit _.

He at least had the grace to look dismayed. She couldn't afford that verity and in the end, neither could she afford the guilt.

"I was very clear in my instructions, was I not?" She sternly asked.

His large eyes widened further, and his words burst from him. "No time to wait! Have kept this quiet as long as possible but the number of new cases is growing exponentially! Our government is putting significant pressure on us already. If the Lystheni become the scapegoats…"

She almost laughed. There was only one source for the problem and it was sitting in her chair.

"The protection of your faction is not my concern," was her cold reply. "I expect my requirements to be met."

She disconnected his feed immediately and looked to the only successful agent once again. "I trust I'll have your findings in hand today?"

"Within the hour, sir," he confirmed after clearing his throat.

"That's all," Miranda said, and closed all the feeds simultaneously. She took a long moment afterward to curse herself before adding the same epithets to ignorant megalomanical Salarians; then took a deep breath for composure.

She was readying an elimination order for Piwon and his entire staff when another call came in. It was Shepard again. She kept typing as she answered.

"Hey Miri," she said, "Got a second?"

"If it's important," Miranda said snippishly.

There was no answer, and she finally looked at Shepard's patiently waiting face. "What is it?"

"Look, I know you're busy," she said firmly, "But I'm having a problem I'm not sure anyone but you can fix."

Miranda went back to typing, then sent the order with a smash of her finger before turning back to her friend. She said nothing, simply waiting expectantly. It was brusque, she knew, but it was important for people to understand she couldn't be interrupted just now. She watched the expected frustration sweep over Shepard's face before she relented and began.

"I had a minor cut about a week ago," she started, "Something that should have healed very quickly. I didn't have any trouble that I was aware of, but over the last couple of days it looks like it's..I don't know...resurfaced?" The woman's fingers went to a spot on her forehead.

Miranda hadn't seen anything there when she called and tried to suppress her annoyance. "What do you mean?" she asked.

"It's like," Shepard fumbled for a description as her fingernails dug at the spot, "It's like it's infected, and it itches a lot."

Her lips pursed after she asked her to move her hands. A quick couple of pinches on the haptic screen and the camera zoomed in tight. The split skin was pulling away and clearly atrophying, revealing a smooth, pink surface underneath.

"So are you saying this was fully healed before? As per normal?"

Shepard sighed audibly, as if she were embarrassed by the subject. "I think so," she said, "But, to be honest, I wasn't paying much attention."

"I'm going to get some photos for analysis. Hold still." Then, "Right, can you pick one side and pull at it gently?"

Shepard's fingernail came into view for a moment before the tired flesh moved away and out of sight. She panned the camera to inspect the edge, and saw that the new skin extended beyond the borders of the wound.

"A bit farther," she murmured, "If it's not too painful."

The flesh moved farther, peeling though Shepard made no sound of discomfort; and she could see an end to it, though the juncture was reddened and inflamed. It was as if….

_Fuck. _

"Hold there, again. Let me do a scan."

"Alright," Miranda heard her mumble, but she used every second of the scan to not panic and think of something to say.

She gave the scans a cursory look, knowing the data was valuable, though not right now. When she was ready, she zoomed the camera back out to regard Shepard's face.

"Well," she deadpanned, "It looks like the overlying skin is dying. I'll have to do some analysis of the actual tissue but I'd guess some sort of foreign material created a pocket of tissue your body needs to reject."

"Should I peel it off?" she asked with a furrowed brow, her fingers moving back to the spot.

"No, no…" Miranda said swiftly until she lowered her hand. She was uncertain what the woman might see if she did. "Whatever it's doing I wouldn't disturb it. Keep it dry and covered for now. When you can, have a medic collect some tissue and send it to me." It felt as wrong as she'd ever felt in her life to lie to her, to _Shepard _; but her friend wasn't in any immediate danger. She tilted her head, curious. "What happened initially, if I may ask?"

The red-head's lips twitched. "Got in a fight."

"Shocking," she replied with a squinch of her eyes. "Anything else I can do for you?"

"Actually, there is," she began, her eyes twinkling with some secret delight, "A little surprise for Liara. But...I should go," she grinned. "I'll send a mail with the particulars."

As soon as the Spectre disconnected, so did any expression on Miranda's face. She sat there quietly, in her chair, with half a dozen monitors humming in her pristine office. On 4 of those monitors were different pages of the billion and a half lines of code used to bring the healing nanites to life 5 years ago. On the 5th was her tie-in to the Reaper data cache.

She hadn't slept in days. Stims had helped for awhile, but the lines standing in white against their black background might as well have been hieroglyphics in her current state.

_Shepard was infected. _

The thought reverberated in her brain until it felt like a loop. Her progress was too slow. It was only a matter of time before the newsfeeds picked up the story...before everyone _knew _.

Including Jack.

She reached out with a hand and two heavy silver balls rose from their container, wreathed in blue light before traveling to her. She rotated them slowly above her hand, watching the light play and reflect from their perfect surfaces. Under normal circumstances she found it calming; but after a minute or so the spinning spheres only reminded her of the words spinning in her brain, now with an addition.

_Shepard's infected. Jack is next. _

Before she even realized what she'd done there was an explosion of glass and twisted metal, the balls tearing so violently through her monitors that they bounced and struck the wrecked bits again on their way back. They clanged musically against the floor and wall behind her, sides misshapen and deformed.

Her omni buzzed again and after a curse under her breath she sniffed and dabbed at the corners of her eyes. When any evidence of her emotion was gone, she activated it. "What is it?" she demanded of her helmsman.

He cleared his throat, concern in his eyes. "Ma'am, there's a ship coming into range. They're hailing us."

Impossible. They were a light year from Sagitarrius A*, far enough to prevent being cooked by radiation or shredded by gravitational forces, but well within the soup of static that should prevent their detection. "A ship….out here?" she asked uselessly before cutting her own query short. "Who's hailing?"

"It's the Geth Ma'am. They want to come aboard."


	16. Chapter 16

_Jack... _

A shiver of delight, yearning, and simultaneous dread wracked her body at the throaty whisper near her ear. She had just enough awareness to recognize she was dreaming an old familiar dream, but also enough sense not to press the matter or she'd wake.

She relaxed, instead, and was transported back to the memory through the woman's sultry call; back to a room lit with old fashioned candles and a hearth-fire that heated the room to uncomfortable levels. Yes, there were the bindings around her limbs now. She could hear them stretch, sweat-slick as she tried to move.

_Shhh…. _

The soft sigh of the sound caressed her ear now and she felt the warmth of the woman's lips suckle her earlobe. The effect was dizzying, every nerve on that side of her head and down past her shoulder lighting with pleasure while the rest of her exhausted body ached. The woman's suggestion made her eyes fall immediately closed and she lowered her forehead to the table where she was bound.

There she lay, drifting through memories of every moment that brought her to this state; the pain and pleasure visited on her in ever increasing amounts until her nervous system sang with it; expertly alternated until they twined together...enhancing each other...a growing, addicting tower of sensation that Jack knew could only extend so high. But where did it end?

_More? _

Came the expected question, repeated enough that Jack'd lost count. Her limbs trembled involuntarily and her breath was still ragged from the last round; every inch of her throbbing in enough pain that it'd settled into a sort of white noise. She opened an eye to look at her tormentor and found a soft smile of approval on her face, dark lidded gaze promising to hold her tightly through whatever lay ahead.

She found her spirit lift, determined to prove herself again. She could do it. She could go higher, longer than anyone. She would do it for _them _.

"Harder," she said between gritted teeth.

Those dark eyes flicked behind her, to the man looming with the tools, the yin to her yang. The two lovers considered one another for a moment, then she heard his deep, gentle voice say, "You've done well. I think that's enough."

Sweet relief flooded her, and the woman began untying her hands while he released her feet. They assisted her off the table and to a low, soft bed where they joined her beneath the covers. There, soft fingers, skin and lips caressed every hurt until finally he flipped her, lifting her to her knees. The woman slid between her trembling thighs, those mesmerizing eyes catching hers and holding them while she felt the man move into proper position behind her.

"Through suffering, we reveal our strength," he breathed before taking great handfuls of the lacerated skin on her back, twisting it into his fists.

Jack's breath caught from the brutality of it, unable to make a sound; and at the same time, the warmth of the woman's mouth enveloped her sex with an unspeakable sweetness, again twisting the sensations together into something greater then either of them apart.

One of his hands let loose long enough for him to put himself inside, and she finally was able to whine the words, "Fuck me…" It was both a curse and a plea, as she'd never ever been so _ready _in her entire life.

Of course, that's just when Grunt woke her up. Did wonderful things to her mood.

"The FUCK!" she shouted, flailing an arm toward the hulk between her and one of the bay lights.

"Easy!" Grunt growled, batting away her fist before lowering his voice. "You were having a bad dream. Just tryin'ta help."

"Like hell!" she spat, before lifting herself into a sitting position by the wall and rubbing her face with her hands. God, she didn't want to imagine what kind of sounds she must have been making to draw attention. She looked around and began getting her bearings, blood still thick with need.

Grunt spoke, but she couldn't hear it over the soft, beckoning whispers still clinging to her.

_Jack. More? _

"What?" she asked irritably before grabbing the bench to her right and pulling herself to her feet.

"I _said, _it's _time," _Grunt raised his voice, beady eyes wide. "You wanna talk about this or what?"

"Yeah," she said foggily, reaching for a canister of water in her pack. She took a few long drinks, then tried again to focus, clearing her throat and finally meeting his gaze. "You wanna tell me why you're showing your throat to this asshole? Cuz I'm not sure I can buy in."

"It's called a Crush, Jack," the Krogan explained patiently. "Sometimes you gotta talk before you start killing people."

Her eyes squinched shut and she rubbed the sand out of them with a thumb and forefinger as she said, "Why the fuck you need me then?"

He jerked back like he'd been bit, then raised his hands to either side like the answer was obvious. "Because sometimes assholes don't honor the terms."

"And what?" she fired back, "I'm the difference in you coming out with your head? I'm good, Grunt, but really? What is it, 1000 to 1 down there?"

"More like 200," he said with a grimace.

"200?" Jack said before shrugging. "I mean, we've had worse odds."

"200,000," he corrected her.

Jack choked on the water she'd been sipping to clear the taste of sleep from her mouth. "How, by a Reaper's balls, does Dulak have 400,000 warriors?"

"Heh, heh, heh," Grunt chortled. "You forgot Charl."

Jack's expression took on a decidedly violent tone, but Grunt relented with a hand raised in calm.

"You're here as a message," he said, unlatching the armor over one arm. He dropped it in a heap, pulling back some padding to reveal a skull surrounded by an omega symbol; the tattoo she personally put on every member of the Intrepid Few after the war.

"He fucks with us, he's doing more than messing with Urdnot," Grunt said firmly.

So that was it. This wasn't about her. It was, predictably, about Shepard as a threat _by proxy _.

At Jack's hurt look, he added, "What, you think I like going in there with my dick in my hands? This doesn't work out, at least we can kill _him _."

Like a switch, though, Jack no longer cared, the hit to her pride buried deep and his offer of joyful violence discarded. She hadn't planned on revealing her ask so soon, but if she was gonna be an errand-girl she might as well make it official. "Whatever," she said in a low voice. "I'll do it, but on one condition...non-negotiable."

Grunt seemed to recognize the shift in energy, and a look of concern blossomed on his Mesozoic face. "Alright," he said tentatively, "Whattaya want?"

"Wrex made an offer to Aria T'Loak before he died," she said. "The Krogan were going to occupy Omega and pay her rent while keeping the riff raff quiet. Make sure Urdnot honors the agreement, and I'm yours."

Grunt picked up his armor and began putting it back in place, a look of hurt now on _his _face. "If Urdnot isn't around we can't honor anything. We gotta win, first." At her uncaring expression his face contorted into anger and he pointed a finger at her. "So even if you're only here for _her, _you gotta sell it. Right?"

"Right," she growled, her icey eyes challenging.

"Fine," he snarled, brushing past her to start settling on a bench for sleep.

"_ Fine," _she countered, heading up front, steps heavy.

She sat down in the co-pilot's seat as the Shaman had taken over flying, looked over at him at the same time he looked at her, rolled her eyes and put her boots up on the side dash.

Charl took a deep sniff of the air and even though she wasn't looking at him she could feel his beady eyes fixed on her. "Must've been some dream," he gurgled despite her attempt to pretend he didn't exist.

"Shut up."

She heard a rhythmic hitch in the Krogan's breath that had to be a laugh, then he spoke again. "I hope you killed whoever you were fighting. It sounded fierce."

"Nope," she enunciated clearly, eyes fixed on far away stars; but before she'd let him keep going down that road she'd open the airlock on 'em all. "Where did Dulak get all those warriors?" she asked instead.

He grunted at the change of topic. "The numbers are probably wrong," he began after a moment of thought. "An estimate. While Wrex wanted a census, he had more important tasks."

"You think maybe Dulak's leader is trying to make himself look bigger than he is?" she asked hopefully. 600,000 troops wasn't a huge number, after all, in a galactic sense; but there were maybe 250,000 at Wrex's funeral and many of them weren't loyal to Urdnot. Even given the fact that not _every _member of Urdnot would attend the thing it seemed, at least from the outside, that they were heavily outnumbered. She just didn't know enough to say for sure.

"Of course he is," the Shaman laughed. "But Kravarog's father had a convincing cause for recruitment."

"What, bigger than curing the genophage?"

"For some," he growled, showing some of his own teeth aggressively. "Our race was relegated to killing for money after the genophage decimated our ranks; a punishment for our unity in the Rebellions. After we ate that whole, after we suffered a thousand years of misery for daring to be more than slaves, the Salarians didn't think it was enough. While we put aside our grievances and joined the rest of the galactic community against the Reapers, they _attacked what was left of our homeworld_."

He paused to get control of emotions that were getting the better of him before continuing. "Everyone was an Urdnot the morning the Battle for Earth started," he said carefully, "But our hearts were torn by dusk."

Even though Jack knew the facts about what happened that day, she'd never really processed it from their point of view. From the looks of it Charl would crush the skull of any Salarian that magically appeared here in the cockpit, and she couldn't really blame him for feeling that way. "So Dulak wanted to go to war," she said thoughtfully.

The Krogan nodded sagely, "And Wrex and all his warriors were locked away behind broken relays long enough for them to come to real power."

Jack hummed in thought. "It's not real power when it's a bunch of pogues, is it?" Charl looked like he didn't quite follow, so she explained, "If Wrex had all the warriors, how much power do the folks back at the homestead really have?"

"That's a good question, human," the Shaman said, even sounding a bit impressed. "During the last thousand years, if a female could not breed, she had little purpose. Now that many can, their influence has grown."

Jack's brow furrowed. "Wait, are you saying the females wanted to go to war, too?"

He nodded again, appearing to enjoy the lesson. "Remember that many of these females were pregnant with their first brood, some of them hundreds of years old. They'd been dreaming about having even one child their entire lives, and attacking them at their most vulnerable produced a backlash that erased centuries of moderate thinking. Their anger quickly spread among those left behind. It's ironic that Wrex and his supporters were the voice of reason when they returned."

Jack snorted. "I'm having trouble with the part where Wrex _doesn't _want to kill Salarians."

The Shaman's eyes narrowed in thought before saying, "Wrex understood that the timing of an action is almost as important as the action itself, which is difficult for the angry to grasp."

"Yeah," she drawled, musing. She'd beat her head against that, plenty. "And I bet 'the angry' got pretty pissed at him, too."

"Yeah," Charl mimicked back. "Bakara, chief among them."

_Now that's some quality drama _, she thought, eyes widening. "No shit?"

The Krogan laughed, "No shit."

"What happened?" she asked, pulling her feet off the dash and turning her chair toward him.

Charl corrected his course toward the next relay and set the freighter on autopilot before answering. Jack was still generally repulsed by the old man but he clearly knew how to hang on to an audience.

"Well," he began while shifting his bulk around in his seat, "Remember that the females had their own clan, to defend the gender against all the clans that wanted to _own _their own fertile females. This let them negotiate breeding rights in exchange for what they needed to get by and gave the infertile a purpose other than offing themselves."

"Yeah, I remember," she murmured. Gender inequality was only one of many reasons the Krogan were looked down on by the other races.

"When most of them became fertile again, they had a line to their door; Krogan who would do anything to avail themselves of their...services. Their leader, Uta found herself with more power than most other clan leaders overnight. It didn't take long for the _real _clan leaders to notice, but we still had the Reapers to deal with, so it was set aside temporarily."

"Okay, and?" Jack said impatiently.

"And...by the time Wrex arrived home with his warriors, the female clan pulled all the strings and even Bakara was chanting for war. Dulak was frothing at the mouth to go after the Salarians and _not by coincidence _had secured a lucrative breeding contract that they'd been acting on for over a year while the others were away. Wrex had to do something to regain control."

"You mean to tell me that the women basically controlled the Krogan?" she asked incredulously.

Grunt's voice unexpectedly carried from the cargo bay. "For fuck's sake _be quiet _!"

Jack guessed that last part _had _been a bit loud and she clenched her jaw. Charl was doing something odd with his mangled lips that she took as some kind of grin, though, and she chuckled, warming up to the guy. "Go ahead," she said with a wave of her hand.

"Yeah," he grunted, "Well I wouldn't expect you'ta hear this version from most, but it _was _the first time the reigning clan and female clan actually had a sit down, so you be the judge. At the end of their talks, Wrex agreed to take action against the Salarians and the female clan agreed to disperse. Urdnot territory was already neutral ground for females, no kidnapping allowed. The agreement expanded that to all territories with harsh punishments for any lawbreakers."

"Oh," Jack said, eyes widening in understanding. "That's why Bakara's finally wearing Urdnot colors." Her dark eyes glanced up to the ceiling in thought before returning to his. "But if Wrex agreed to go to war with the Salarians, what the hell has he been doing all this time?"

The Shaman just looked at her for a moment, his eyes slowly widening when he realized the question was genuine. "You….asked where Dulak's warriors came from."

"Oh," she said again. Her brow furrowed, knowing she'd missed something, and chewed on her lower lip. The warriors were for a war with the Salarians. They were under another clan's banner and on Tyr, not Tuchanka. _Nobody would think to look there, and they were one jump away from the Salarian homeworld _. "Oh! " she exclaimed before lowering her voice to a harsh whisper. "You're ready to attack Sur'Kesh!"

"If we can come to terms with Kravorog," the Shaman replied in a deep voice. "Those warriors are ready to spill blood. The longer they sit idle, the less they care who that blood belongs to."

"Shit," she groaned, shifting in her seat to look forward again through the glass. She folded her arms, guilt nagging at her. Her gaze was fixed on the stars, not wanting to look at the Shaman before she breathed, "I was...a raging bitch to Grunt just now."

"You were roughly woken," he gurgled, the last syllable turning into a chuckle. When she turned to look at him sharply he fully laughed. "You think humans are the only ones with mating dreams?"

For one of the few times in her life Jack found no words, unsure whether to lie or brashly admit the truth. It's not like she was ashamed of it...far from it. It was just…._ private _in a way few other memories were. Even her more vile curses were strangled with that uncertainty until she lamely told him to fuck himself, proving him right.

"If words to Grunt were your crime, Jack," he said, pulling his ponderous weight upright and onto his feet with a look devoid of humor, "Then words are the cure. Wake me when we reach the relay."

She did, after several hours of travel through the Horse Head Nebula, and the pair once again took the wheel. Jack tried to meet Grunt's eyes as they passed one another in the short hall connecting the cockpit with the hold, but he purposefully avoided her and launched into a conversation with Charl instead. _Well _, she thought, _at least I know what the fuck is going on _.

She stayed quiet as they arrived, listening to their plans, which was essentially to keep calm and offer Kravorog a chance to lead the whole shebang if he could just prove his innocence. Seemed a sweet enough carrot unless the asshole's plan was _in fact _to take over from the start; but if so, what advantage had he gotten by waiting this long?

Tyr looked pretty desolate, with no hint of the Krogan colony visible until very close to the ground. Once they got clearance to land she saw that the landing facilities were under what had to be artificial 'surfaces' that looked just like normal ground from above. The surfaces were raised high enough for spacecraft to enter from the sides, with energy barriers keeping out the poisonous atmosphere. There were a _LOT _of ships in there. For such a high-tech installation, though, the landing area was still littered with equipment and trash. Hard for her to be judgmental though, when the sheets on her own bed hadn't been changed in months.

They were met by a group of large and intimidating battlemasters wearing yellow and green, which she figured to be Dulak's colors. Unlike the others milling around the landing bay, though, their uniforms had a peculiar slash of black on the left shoulder, which probably meant they were bodyguards. They seemed polite enough, greeting Grunt with respect and leading them to a large tunnel with a pair of converted tomkahs waiting. The group didn't even check their belongings for weapons, just bundled them all in the back and drove. _God dammit _, she thought, _I _knew _they should've come packing. _The M-358 Talon in her duffle might not mean much in a fight alone with these boys, but the shotgun-like pistol sure made a satisfying sound when it ruined someone's day.

The drive was so long she nearly nodded off before the Shaman elbowed her back to consciousness. Her mind had been wandering, what with the pair being so dominantly silent and the bodyguards watching like statues. They must've driven 100 km by now and while part of her wondered how they'd carved out such an area underground, the rest of her just wanted some music, damn the consequences. Fortunately the driver perked up just a few moments later.

They pulled into a wider area with rows of other vehicles parked, then exited and moved into an even larger excavated area reinforced with metal and sectioned into big rooms and quarters. This was the nerve center; the head of this particular snake. It was well fortified, she could see, with automated as well as manned defenses; a tough nut to crack. Walking down a sprawling main hallway, Jack passed several rooms of Krogan wearing different colors. There was a line of them also seated against a wall before a set of tall doors, swung open.

All eyes followed Grunt as he entered. Only a few of them had weapons she could actually see, and she noted each in turn. Up some steps to an empty dias, an elaborately dressed Krogan (for them, anyway) waited. When they reached him, he leaned forward to speak in a low voice to Grunt.

"You gotta be kidding me," Grunt growled.

The Krogan shrugged. "Whatever you need to say, you can say to me."

"I came," Grunt snapped, "To see Kravorog. You tell him to get his ass out here, now, before I start stringing up his next appointments."

Whoever-the-fuck looked annoyed but eventually turned around and stomped through a side passage. Grunt looked at her in exasperation and shook his giant head, then returned his glare to the dias. There were a lot of whispers around them, though every time she looked toward a voice, it got quiet. After a few minutes of pacing the guy reappeared and gestured for them to follow.

They were brought into yet another large room separated into two parts by some kind of sliding wall. It didn't reach all the way to the ceiling, and Jack could hear something moving behind it, but their 'tour guide' motioned to seats on this side of it. It was Jack's turn to look at Grunt this time, but his eyes were also narrowed in confusion, or suspicion, or both.

"Where is he?" Grunt asked with an edge of malice, none of them moving to the benches; but before the Krogan could answer they heard a voice from behind the wall.

"I'm here, Grunt," it said, in a tone so low it was more of a rumble. "What do you want?"

"We need to talk. What's with the smoke and mirrors?"

A deep sigh echoed in the dark space behind the partition, but the sound was amplified through a speaker on this side of the room. "A lot's changed since the last time I saw you... Raego, pull the damn thing back."

Raego twisted his head toward the back of the room, startled; then looked back at Grunt, lips curling back to reveal his sharp teeth before stomping to the left-hand side of the room and punching a panel with a meaty club of a fist.

The tall barrier began moving slowly but surely to the right, the only noise being the occasional squeal of metal on metal. Charl took a step forward to stand by her, all their eyes focused on what was being revealed.

The space behind was bigger than the room they were standing in. Much bigger. The section of room was sealed off by a clear, thick barrier. Equipment filled the wallspace and there was a giant bed-like thing in the middle that folded so that it could be used as a chair for the leader of Dulak. He filled every inch of the thing and more, enormous forearms spilling over armrests that were oversized for even the largest Krogan. His head stood taller than Grunt, _seated, _and was wider than two of him side by side.

His back was bowed forward, with all-white eyes looking at them from beneath a craggy brow. While he sprawled confidently on his makeshift throne Jack couldn't help but sense he was terribly _uncomfortable _in this space...as if it was closing in around him.

"By Shiagur's tits, Krav," Grunt exclaimed after a moment, "Did your mother fuck a Maw?"

The irritable glint in the ruler's eyes softened for a moment at the comment, followed by a curl in his lips and finally a chuckle that grew into a laugh that filled the room. It was a gallows laugh, the kind you heard from those who had nothing to lose; but it was so genuine they were both pounding their knees at the end of it...revealing a fondness for one another Jack never expected.

"Aha," Kravorog finished, raising a leg sized arm to brush at his eyes. "Would be easier to explain, I think." he admitted. He considered Grunt for a moment, then added, "I'm glad they sent you. It's good to see your face."

Grunt grunted, nodding. "This is some hip-deep shit, my friend. We need to settle this yesterday."

"On that we agree," Kravorog replied, nodding with certainty, eyes slipping to her and the shaman in turn. "Who's your escort?"

"This is our Shaman," he began with a gesture to Charl who nodded gruffly. "He'll be monitoring the proceedings. And this is Jack."

Those weird eyes widened and took her in, so he clearly wasn't blind. She acknowledged him with a lift of her chin, but he stared long enough to make her feel like she was something crawling in a petri dish. "What?" she asked challengingly when she'd had enough.

"I find…" He began, "That I struggle, even now, with the fact that it was your species the Reapers feared the most. You look like naked, wiggling worms."

Jack reared her head back at the insult and her brow furrowed in disbelief. "Well hey, I reckon if you all'd just pulled your heads out of your asses 1000 years ago you might've been something worth fearing, but here we are."

Kravorog looked pointedly at Grunt and Jack readied herself for some kind of violent response, but they both just ended up laughing again. She sure as fuck didn't join in, though. Were they here to kill this guy or what? The Krogan looked back at her after a moment and sighed, leaning back in his chair with a bit less tension in his shoulders. "Grunt spoke well of you, Jack. It's good to meet another one of the 'Few'."

"Yeah well, can we hurry this along? I got shit to do," she spat, crossing her arms.

Kravarog nodded, returning his gaze to Grunt, who'd been waiting patiently. "I'm listening. What word do you bring from Urdnot?"

"The Rite of the Void is done," Grunt said solemnly. "And the Rite of Authority is begun. Your name is on a lot of lips, Krav, but.."

"But you still think we killed Wrex," he interrupted with narrowed eyes.

"What I think doesn't matter. The elders need proof or you're out."

"Proof?" Krav said, his brow arching angrily, "What proof do you have that we _did _? My father had all he ever wanted from Urdnot and was about to lead the vanguard to Sur'Kesh. It doesn't make any _sense _to kill him!"

"It was Martak's ship that fired on him!" Grunt countered, eyes fierce. "Most of our forces are here under _your _command! If there was ever a time to betray him it's now! What are they supposed to think?"

"I think they'd believe whatever you told them to think," the clan leader said with a baleful eye, "Which means you think I'm in on it, too." He pointed a giant hooked claw at her friend. "How much sense does it make to attack a ship in the middle of a larger fleet and get yourself killed, when your only heir is a mutated disgrace, hmm? Not much of a plot, is it? I thought you knew me better than that."

Grunt sighed as if he dreaded the response he had to give. It was the look of earnestness that gave it away, but his words were rote, like they'd been memorized. "And what better way to legitimize such a son than by gifting him 600,000 warriors."

Kravorog paused for a moment in surprise, then barked a laugh, which turned into a loud and generous guffaw that lasted too long. "You think," he started before laughing some more, twisting in his seat with the force of his humor. "You think _my father _would kill himself just to make sure I came to power?"

"No," Grunt said wearily. "We think you arranged it with his men to take over, yourself."

_Damn _, Jack thought, immediately looking at a glowering Raego to see if he was wanting to get involved. _Wish I had popcorn _.

"What, you think Martak's _friends _wanted to kill him and themselves for me?" Dulak countered calmly. "Come on, Grunt. We Krogan aren't much for self-sacrifice."

Grunt shook his head but Jack saw the guy's point. Still, there was a question just laying on the table; a question her friends weren't touching for some reason.

"Why are you a disgrace?" She asked boldly. "Why wouldn't your clan want to follow you? Why are you behind this wall?"

In answer he stood, plate-sized hands gripping the arms of his throne until they creaked. His back straightened and straightened, his head rising higher and higher until he stopped, stooped just under the ceiling. He wasn't wearing armor...she idly wondered if he had a set made for something of this size or how much such a thing would weigh...but he filled _all _of a set of robes that could completely cover a skycar. Jack stole a look at Grunt and found his jaw slack as he stared up at the monster. Krogan flexibility wasn't really a thing and he had to lean a bit backwards just to take it all in.

"What in the actual f-" she started before returning her eyes to Krav.

"Because his mate's been experimenting on him for years," Grunt interrupted. He spoke to Dulak once again, "When is enough, enough old man?"

"His _mate _?" Jack barked with a wry smile. "You mean you've got scientists? _Female _scientists?"

"Yes," Kravorog rumbled, "Her intellect is unparalleled. A pity the rest of our kind is threatened by it."

"Sounds like she should've been working on the Genophage," Jack remarked.

"She was," Grunt responded before looking at her meaningfully. "And so was her father, Warlord Okeer."

A grin wormed its way across her face. "Okeer, huh? So wait, that kinda makes her your...sister, right?"

The clan leader chuckled, "And through her, he's my brother." The giant Krogan looked sideways at Grunt's glowering face. "Not that he acts like it."

Grunt growled in frustration before saying, "I'm Urdnot. It's simple. A Dulak ship fired upon and destroyed the flagship of the Krogan people with my clan leader on it. Whadaya you want me to do, hug it out?" He pointed a finger at Kravorog, continuing, "If you really want to end this thing you'll disband the army and come take your place at the Rite of Authority, where you belong."

Kravarog snarled and took a threatening step forward, arms reaching forward out of his robe to reveal strength and sinew and long terrible claws. For the first time Jack felt the realization that he could actually tear them both apart. She stepped back, barrier springing into being around her instinctively, but he stopped, and the hissing words coming from him combined with their ultra low pitch sounded like something out of hell.

"That will not happen. It took _years _to assemble this host, to hide and equip them for this fight. They are poised and ready. To disband them is not only to destroy all of our plans, but let every other race know where they were and what we were planning to do."

"That decision's _not yours _," Grunt snarled back, unphased by Dulak's height towering over him. "If we're not united, there can be no attack on anyone!"

"Heheheheheh," Kravorog laughed, the sound echoing in the stone chamber. "I've seen what waiting means, brother. It means war amongst ourselves, like the one you came here to threaten me with. If we wait, the Salarians will never _pay for what they've done _!" His chest and head shook with rage at the last words, and Jack's ears stung with it. "If that means we go and die, destroying _everything they hold dear, _then that is a war….won."

There was silence for a moment, both of them breathing deeply and glaring, but Grunt did answer after a time. "You're late to the game, Krav," he said in a voice so low that everyone was forced to turn an ear. "There's reasons we waited this long...reasons that mean our attack could be forgiven by _everyone _else. Attacking now will _kill our future _."

"Forgiven?" he snarled in response. "It sounds to me like everyone forgave their attack on our homeworld, too! I'm not worried about _forgiveness, _Grunt. I'm worried about the next time they try to wipe us out! If we don't END them we're killing our future."

Grunt shook his head and sighed. "And I agree with you, brother. But we are not...we cannot be the same Krogan we were before." Before Kravorog could argue he pressed his point. "The Salarians are organized. They have friends throughout the galaxy and the Council. They play the game of war on a different level and they are _winning _." He emphasized the point with a sealed fist, "In war the one who adapts emerges victorious and we have the time to do that _now _. We _need _strong and smart leaders who can lead us to victory now that Wrex is _gone _. Dulak's face began screwing into stubbornness and again Grunt stopped him. "Krav. You have grown from a disfigured son that your father hid from his allies into a power to be reckoned with. I know you."

Grunt took a step forward and paused, looking up at him seriously. "Come back with me," he hissed, holding out a hand in front of the clear glass.

He looked...sincere, Invested, hell, even concerned. _Wow _, Jack said in the depths of her own mind, though she kept her face neutral. _Where did this Grunt come from? _She found herself sympathizing with the giant mutant and watched him, hoping he'd say yes.

Kravorog's lips peeled back from his teeth in a smile and Jack began to wonder if she didn't just come out to watch the pair tie the knot when the wrecking-ball sized head shook back and forth.

"Well," Dulak said pleasantly, "You've succeeded in your quest." Then his lips curled into a sneer and he continued, "You lie better than a Salarian ever did." He waved a hand and the doors behind them opened, his personal guard flooding in with weapons raised.

Jack made a reach for her bag but Grunt stopped her with a hand on her shoulder and a shake of his head. He dismissed her look of concern and stood quietly as they were encircled. She noticed the Shaman looked completely calm too, but that was probably because the bastard was untouchable. She swore and stood and did her damnedest to stay calm, but kept the ember of rage inside her chest alive and ready.

"Killing me won't help you," Grunt said gravely as the crowd grew. "You'll just be admitting your guilt."

"So they can do what, protest on the sidelines?" Kravorog laughed. "When they see the fury of our attack they'll be forced to join us or spend eternity branded a coward. I'd offer a place for you, Grunt, but..." He shrugged helplessly and lifted a hand again to order the attack.

"But you're afraid I'd just kill you and take over," Grunt said again, calm as still water...and Dulak's hand froze. "After all, these warriors are here for the fight, not you, right?"

The clan leader looked around the room full of his most fanatical men and they all started laughing. "Is this the part where you challenge me for leadership? Grunnnntt…." He breathed, shaking his head. "I'm gonna save you a lot of pain by declining."

"Oh no," Grunt interjected again before he could order the attack, and it seemed to irritate the clan leader. "I was gonna say I'll just kill everyone here and make it a moot point."

Kravorog laughed again and pounded his knee, the rest joining him in mockery. "You're gonna kill everyone in this room?"

"Hah!" Grunt joined in the laughter, looking around amiably at them all. "Nono, I'll kill everyone on this planet!" He laughed even louder then….and the rest of them got quiet. Reeal quiet.


	17. Chapter 17

The rainbow of expressions on Kravorog's face began to settle back into one of customary viciousness, no doubt with some crude threat on his tongue, but Grunt wasn't finished.

"Oh," Grunt said, his laughter dying at everyone's sudden sobriety. He looked around at them all, then back to Kravorog. "You wanna know how?" His expression became all sweetness, but cruelty colored his eyes as he explained in a way a child would understand. "Well, you see, there're a bunch of big rocks spinning around this star system with engines on 'em." He outstretched a hand to the clan leader demonstrably, "Wrex didn't really trust your father with the bulk of our armed forces, Krav. He figured he needed something to keep him in line, just in case."

Jack watched him look around then, gathering everyone's undivided attention before he spoke again. "I don't report in, my Shaman don't report in, anything happens to Jack, hell, any large ship even _leaves _this place without my approval? Those rocks are coming _here _." He pointed to the ground before him with a large, thick finger.

Kravorog huffed, looking around at his men to steel their resolve. "Any asteroid would take weeks to get here. We'll be standing on Sur'Kesh, surrounded by Salarian bodies by the time they arrive."

Grunt just smiled slowly and Jack's heart sunk. She could guess what he was going to say next before it came outta his mouth. "That's why I sent them 2 weeks ago." He spun his body slowly around to the surrounding wall of armed meat glaring at him. "So you better make your mind up, quick."

_God dammit _, she swore inwardly, _It was another suicide mission after all. _Might not be the right time to call him out on this bullshit but she turned a glare on the back of his head that would burn a building down. Jack didn't know whether to feel relieved over the fact that they probably wouldn't be attacked right away or disturbed that she might have to die underground surrounded by these fuckers; but regardless, she figured her stage-cue had finally arrived and put all her current feelings behind it.

"And don't even think about skirting outta here on your own, either, cupcake," She added with a pointed finger and a snort of disgust, "Shepard already wants you dead for Wrex. If she has to hunt you down _herself? _" Jack chuckled darkly, "They'll have to look at your DNA to figure out what _species _you were."

The words seemed to have the appropriate effect.

"Enough!" The giant Krogan roared, echoing around the room. His head spun toward Raego, who Jack now understood to be top lapdog, and growled, "Find me those asteroids." Then he looked at Grunt. "You're staying here with me," He said firmly before looking directly at the Shaman, "And we'll abide by the terms of the Crush." He then pointed directly at Grunt, "But if those rocks make landfall, you die with us."

You'd had to have known Grunt awhile to notice the subtle lift of his head that meant he was relaxing, clearly pleased by the call. But when Kravorog turned to level a look at her, she felt a squirm in her stomach that usually meant she should duck behind the nearest wall.

"And you," he said in as close to a purr as the giant probably ever got, "Will stay with our other guests." His eyes darted to Grunt. "An insurance policy. You understand." Then he looked to the Battlemasters standing behind her and raised his jaw in silent order. "Take her to quarters, and strip her of weapons and communication devices. Something tells me she likes trouble."

Jack looked at Grunt in exasperation but he just made a face before nodding. She had no idea how this was gonna solve anything, but guessed it was a stalling tactic of some kind. "Yeah, yeah," she said irritably, brushing off one of the guard's hands while the other confiscated her duffle. She walked back through the rest of the petitioners to the parked tomkahs shadowed by guards, and this time paid attention to where she was and where they were headed.

Though she was bookended in the back seat, she leaned forward between the two Krogan in the front, draping her arms over the shoulders of their seats to peer out the front glass. "So…" She began with a crooked grin, "Just how many 'guests' are staying here? I mean...no offense but you guys seem a tad," she squinched an eye and measured an inch between her forefinger and thumb, "Cliquish."

The pair looked at her, then each other, then the dark tunnel ahead lit only by the light from the front grill. To her left, a guard began rifling through her bag, quickly finding her pistol. The one to the right finally spoke, saying, "Don't wanna spoil the surprise, but don't worry, human. We take good care of visitors. Even gave you the best view in the house."

"Yeah?" She quipped, "Well now you got me curious. You know, since we're basically still going _down _." Jack saw the clear bottle of Siporo come up in her escort's fat fist and turned to glare at him. "Hey, that's mine. Lay off."

"What is it?" He snarled suspiciously.

"Liquor," she said, brow furrowing. When he didn't put the bottle back in she sneered. "Oh, what, you think it's a bomb or something?" She snatched it from him, uncorked it, and took a deep drink. The taste actually caught her off-guard. It was sweet and spicy all at the same time; a bit like fire and ice flowing down her throat and stealing her breath. Not bad. She cleared her throat, then spat, "You didn't think I'd actually spend the night here _sober _, did ya?" She corked it again and yanked her bag back toward her, placing the suddenly _valuable _bottle back inside with a gentle touch. "You want something explosive in there?" She asked with a bright smile and a wink. "Check out my lingerie."

The guard to her right chuckled, "You looking for a mate? I'm sure there's someone around here into that kind of thing."

The others started laughing as well and she joined in with a disgusted fake one. "That's cute. No. I could've been on vacation right now, but had to come deal with you fucks; so if you could take your faces out of each other's crotch for a minute and sort this shit with Urdnot out, I'd appreciate it." She whipped her head to her left and added, "And I want that pistol back before I leave. Got it?"

"This thing?" the guard growled in disbelief, holding it aloft. "Waste of time if you ask me."

"Yeah?" she pressed, "Well I got it modded just like I want it so…"

He shrugged and she nodded, satisfied. They hadn't driven much farther when the tunnel leveled out, and they came to a stop next to what appeared to be a large elevator. Everyone piled out and Jack followed suit, bag slung on her shoulder.

"Uh, what _is _this?" she asked while they called the car down. The guards seemed relaxed, which relaxed her, too, but that didn't mean she trusted them.

"Penthouse lift," the chatty one that'd sat to her right said, slinging his rifle over a shoulder. "Takes you up to the surface."

The doors opened and the two backseat Krogan walked in, motioning that she should follow. The other two took up positions outside.

"Krogan Elevators," Jack breathed incredulously. "Neat."

The ride up was long. Felt like more than 5 minutes but Jack knew how much impatience could stretch things. When the doors finally slid open she was struck by how much light filled the room before her. She guessed they hadn't lied after all; this had to be the surface.

Stepping out of the lift, Jack found herself on a sealed and polished stone floor that wouldn't have been out of place on the Citadel. A hallway extended both to her right and left, curving back and around out of sight. The elevator shaft appeared to be centrally located, and the exterior walls of the space were filled with windows...the source of that wonderfully soothing light.

Her 'escorts' brushed past her coming out and it brought her back to herself enough to follow them to the left. She scooted to the right-hand side of the hall, towards the glass frames and doorways of well apportioned rooms one after the other. She'd have to actually go into one to peer out the window, but it looked like they were in a very high place with a view.

"Hey, did you guys actually _build _this?" She asked, stunned.

"No." Came an unexpected voice. A female voice.

Jack's head swung back around and saw the guards standing with another Krogan wearing Dulak colors and a telltale headdress marking her as the one who spoke.

"We watched, though, and learned," she continued, yellow slitted eyes looking over Jack clinically. "You are Jack, yes? The one that fought with Shepard?"

"That's me," she replied, striding over, then paused and pointed a finger, her eyes lighting with understanding. "You Okeer's kid?"

"I am," she said gravely. "You may call me Roksar. Welcome to my sanctuary."

"Well," Jack grinned as she approached, "You got great taste." She glanced at the two men beside her and quipped, "Pay attention, boys, this is what happens when a woman puts together a space."

A smile twitched on the female's face and she motioned for Jack to walk with her. The others were still trying to figure out how to act after the side-slung insult and didn't know whether to protest and piss Roksar off or swallow their pride. Knowing she'd still have to deal with these two for awhile, she sent them a wink to let 'em know there were no hard feelings.

"You may pick the room of your choice while you are with us," Roksar began, walking toward a set of double doors.

"Oh yeah?" Jack perked. She took a quick right into the nearest room, dropped her duffle by the bed and made a beeline for the window. Hands, nose and forehead pressed against the glass, she was confronted by a stark drop down the side of some kind of mountain that only ended in a tufty cloudbank above ground. A deep sense of vertigo made her fingers and toes tingle and a smile grow across her face.

"We're on top of a center peak," Jack heard from behind her, the Krogan's voice wistful and proud. "This was the site of an asteroid strike, millions of years ago."

She could see it now, as she lifted her eyes to look closer to the horizon. Another stone wall rose from the mist before her, maybe 2 kilometers away, and stretched the edges of her vision on either side.

"That was a big fucking rock," Jack mused as the female moved beside her at the window.

"We're planning on doming the entire crater," Roksar said with a smile. "This will be our capital, unless you and Grunt destroy it."

Jack snorted. "Don't pretend there's a difference between that and you attacking a Council homeworld. Either way, you're getting flattened." She took a step back from the window and turned to meet her gaze. "Look, I don't have a say in any of this, so save your breath. I'm just here to support Grunt."

While clearly not pleased, Roksar looked thoughtful for a moment, then her eyes narrowed with curiosity. "Were you there that day? When my father died?"

Her eyes dropped as she thought back. She'd been using the data Shepard had given her about Cerberus at the time; finding out everything she could about who'd been responsible for her imprisonment in Teltin. "No," she admitted after a moment.

The Krogan pursed her lips before saying, "I'm curious about his final moments. If he mentioned me."

Jack shrugged. "Don't remember who else went on that mission, so you'd have to ask Shepard."

Roksar nodded sagely, then turned to leave.

"Oh…" Jack said, stopping her. "Hey, Kravorog said you had some other guests?"

"Yes," she replied, and Jack made a point of looking around before lifting her hands in question. "They don't want to be disturbed right now," Was the answer to her unspoken question. "Perhaps tomorrow."

"Alright," Jack said disappointedly. "But, who are they? What are they?"

"There is one Asari and one Human female. Their names are Leelia and Kat, but I'll let them cure your curiosity for more than that. If you need anything, touch the panel beside the sliding doors."

"How about some food?"

In answer she grunted then stepped to the hallway door. "Palor?"

"Yeah?" came a Krogan voice Jack recognized from the car.

"Bring Jack whatever she wants to eat or drink." Those yellow eyes fixed on her once again, before she added, "She's important."

She couldn't help but smile at that and lifted a hand in farewell as the Krogan female departed down the hallway to those sliding doors she mentioned. Jack slipped to her own doorway too, peering nonchalantly at how Roksar opened the door, then past her when the doors opened. They revealed various bits of machinery that looked similar to what stood in Kravorog's own room. Medical, she decided, before the doors shut and she was on her own.

"Hey, Palor!" she called down the hall. The one who offered to get her laid turned and she put his name and face together. "How 'bout we start with whatever's on the menu and some Ryncol, yeah?"

"Haha! Famous last words," he laughed.

Jack strode back over to the window and took in the sights, one arm above her head on the glass. First she'd get some food in her belly then some badly needed sleep...and after that she'd work on getting her ass out of this killbox. Until then she needed to adult a little.

She took a seat before the large window and leaned against the leg of the room's lone chair, beginning to take deep and slow breaths. All her most pressing thoughts enveloped her mind like layers of blankets over her head, suffocating her while preventing her from seeing what was real. One by one she examined them before peeling the layer back and away, starting with the new and progressing backward.

The anxiety she felt about the impending doom of an asteroid bombardment was first, but it was also the easiest to put aside. Death didn't scare her; she'd begged for it before puberty, after all..if it happened, it happened. There was no getting out of life alive and she'd rather it go down in a fiery blaze that'd be recorded forever than slipping away in some forgotten hospital bed. Would suck if she died without getting to talk to Grunt again, though. Point is she still had something to say about this outcome, so it was useless to worry.

Would be worse if she didn't get to talk to Miranda, though, and that elephant was big enough to fill two rooms. She took another deep breath to clear a path through all of her conflicted feelings about the woman. They swirled like the clouds of a hurricane and Jack tried to lift herself above it, to see it clearer. She didn't kid herself. No matter how intensely she hated feeling helpless when it came to her lover, the fact that she could feel something for _anyone _was a positive. Before she ran into Miri and Shepard she'd been on a collision course with execution; if not by some fucking bureaucrat like the one that sold her onto that prison ship, then by some murderer more clever than her on a given day. The pair had changed her outlook and Aria had given an outlet for her aggression. Any options she now had were hers and only hers to fuck up, so she needed to take ownership and be _better _.

The truth is she shouldn't have left like she had; should've made Miri take her along to help with whatever the problem was instead of flouncing out like a brat. Granted, Jack wasn't the smartest girl in the galaxy but _together _they could handle anything thrown at them. As soon as the thought coalesced she was barraged by waves of angry pride at the thought of apologizing when the whole thing was still Miranda's fault.

"Oh, 'cause you never screwed the pooch, right?" she said aloud, then closed her eyes and took another deep breath.

Yeah, Miri fucked up but so did she. She could apologize for her part. The resentment still burned, though, right along with the doubt that an apology would do anything about the fact that Lawson simply wasn't interested in her anymore, so why bother?

_Why? _She answered herself hotly. _Because I wanna hear her say it, that's why. _

And there it was. The reason. Jack's best friend, paranoia, may have saved her life from time to time but it'd also cost her more than one useful relationship, not to mention one of her lover's lives. Miranda wasn't a coward. If she wanted to break things off she didn't have to book an expensive vacation to do it. Could this all be in Jack's head? Their entire relationship had been built on honesty...it was the whole fucking point, right? So? She should apologize, then just ask her straight up. The end.

The decision flooded her with relief. One way or the other the problem would be put to bed, but it wasn't gonna happen today. Today she could set it aside and focus on what she needed to do, which was get the fuck out of this place, priority stormclouds lifted and Jack could finally feel centered, which apart from hooey-wooey religious bullshit just felt balanced and light-footed; ready to play whack-a-mole with any new problems that arose.

She called on her biotics with a smile and felt them answer with a gentle vibration all over her body. She didn't need to open her eyes to see that cerulean energy swimming around her, waiting for a command. Jack began running through a regimen Aria had drilled into her over the past few years; exercises for focus and precision and endurance. She went through them one after the other with little to no break in between and when she was done, sweat glistened on her forehead. The last exercise was the real test.

She formed the fine fluid _threads _of a Mass Effect field between her hands. They could be pushed and pulled, even thrown in any direction to grapple, lift, or smash anything in its path that had weight, but that wasn't what she was after. Jack began curving those threads around and around in a circle, rotating the field faster and faster until it began to spin on its own, the strands blending into one another in an increasingly dense sphere. She fed it more and more until it took on a life of its own, its gravity beginning to tug on her clothes and even the fine hairs on her skin.

Turning at the waist, she pushed the singularity forward into the middle of the open room and it obeyed the command flawlessly. Jack remained focused on it, making sure it was behaving as it should...but that wasn't its purpose. Its purpose was to linger there for some time after her attention was torn away, like in combat; but as she turned away to look out the window she heard it pop out of existence almost immediately, and curled her hands into frustrated fists.

Why couldn't she master this? It wasn't a problem with power or endurance, and it definitely wasn't a lack of fucking practice! She spun reflexively to send a shockwave through the goddamned doorway, but caught herself at the sight of Palor with a covered pot and a mug. His beady eyes widened at the expression on her face and he decided against stepping inside, holding the food and drink up after a moment as a kind of offering.

Jack dropped her chin and sighed, putting her anger away for another time before waving him in.

The next morning found Jack nourished and clean, but bored. She'd resolved to wait for Roksar's visit, but two hours after sunrise she was antsy. Wasn't her fault...they were the ones that took her workpad. The end of what little patience she possessed saw her stomping up to the large sliding door that separated her location from Roksar's medical area and slapping her palm to the panel. It took entirely too long for them to open, but they started sliding right in the middle of her 24th pound on the door with an open hand. Behind them was an irritated female Krogan.

"Is there a problem?" Roksar asked archly.

Jack pantomimed a smile. "Yeah, I'm lonely."

"I see," she said, though it was pretty clear she didn't. "Very well," she said after an awkward moment, "Come with me."

This area seemed to mirror the one she came from, except for all the equipment. They passed room after room on the right until Jack spied the familiar blue skin of an Asari in a room decked out with computers.

"Leelia?" Roksar called and the Asari looked up and smiled before rising from her desk to greet them.

"Hello," Leelia said, folding her hands in front of her. "I'm Leelia Salis. It's good to see a new face."

"Yeah," Jack confirmed before holding out a hand. "I'm Jack." As the Asari reached out to grasp it, her eyes watched her as if waiting for her to finish the introduction. "Just Jack," She added, and the blue-skinned woman nodded acceptingly. "You uh…." She started again, looking over Leelia's shoulder at the room she just came from. "You work here?"

"Leelia has worked with my family for several years," Roksar interrupted, "She's extremely resourceful."

Jack sucked on her teeth for a second in thought. "She part of your experiments on Kravorog?"

The pair looked at each other for a moment before returning their gaze to her. Roksar was again the one to speak, Leelia clearly not wanting to overstep. "She is assisting me in that effort, yes."

Jack smiled slyly, "Listen, I gotta ask. What was wrong with him before? What'd you need to fix?"

Leelia looked shocked at the question, but the look in Roksar's eyes was a bit different. Amused maybe. Her thin shiny lips wrinkled as she figured out how she was gonna respond.

"It shouldn't come as a surprise that the Krogan value health and virility," She said flatly, eyes narrowed. "Especially in those that would rule. Kravorog had a deformity at birth that made one leg shorter than the other. It didn't cause him much difficulty but his gait was rolling and uneven and he was ridiculed for it. In the old days he would have been culled, but he was Martak's only child during the genophage, so he was spared. With the genophage cured and the Dulak clan rising in prominence, it was decided that his deficit should be corrected for the good of the bloodline."

"Well," Jack grinned, "You sure fixed him."

The pair exchanged another glance between them, and smiled knowingly.

"That was only the beginning," Roksar said. "Do you want to know more?"

She shrugged. "Not like I've got much else to do."

The Krogan motioned down the hall with an open hand and they all began slowly walking. "The easiest fix was to replace the affected limb. There were many warriors who needed this kind of assistance after the war ended, so Kravorog simply got a prosthetic at the same time they did. While it addressed the immediate problem, it didn't correct the genetic issue that produced it. I was called in to help. Now, the deformity is well known, but as I was examining his genetic code to prepare an adjustment, I found that it had already been corrected."

Jack's brow crooked while she continued.

"I asked who had been treating him and was told that no one had. The correction appeared spontaneously, or so we thought, but further research showed other oddities in his genetic structure. I was intrigued."

Jack noticed that the next room had an occupant, a male Krogan who sat quietly in a chair and watched them through the large glass wall as they approached. Her companions didn't seem to notice him, still talking and walking, but she met his eyes the whole time. He never looked away, even when he should have. She didn't want to interrupt Roksar's little monologue, but damn if it didn't give her the creeps.

"It didn't take long to determine that these oddities were edits, not spontaneous or natural occurrences," Roksar continued. "It was as if something were cleaning up the random bits of trash evolution inevitably leaves behind." She grunted and shook her head. "So I began looking at potential mechanisms."

The room after had another Krogan, this one laying on a bed. His skin was a mottled, unwell color; and his body shivered from time to time as they passed. He wasn't conscious.

"As it turns out, the nanostructures that the prosthetic uses to transfer signals between the synthetic and living tissue were doing much more than simple communication."

Jack keyed off on the word prosthetic and realized she'd only been half-listening. She stopped them for a moment. "Wait," she said, "What now?"

Roksar's yellow eyes gleamed. "The nanotechnology from the artificial prosthetic was _curating _the genetic code of its host!"

"Curating.." Jack murmured, not understanding.

Leelia piped in unexpectedly, "It was rewriting Kravorog's genetic code to improve his overall performance."

Jack felt her face flush. "Re-_ writing _?" She exclaimed in alarm.

Roksar seemed to think her response was a good one. "Marvelous, isn't it? I had to learn if there was a way it could be harnessed for other purposes, but I didn't want to perform any tests on Kravorog himself, so I contracted Leelia's services."

"My work with her father's cloning data filled the need very well, I think," Leelia added, and she walked forward to show her the occupant of the next room, who was seated in a chair much like the first patient Jack had seen. This Krogan had oddly colored magenta skin, however, and looked like he was blind or had cataracts.

Something was out of place but Jack's mind was spinning so wildly it took her a moment to recognize that the floor was covered in white powder...which was blowing in from the _open exterior window _. At that point her brain errored out. "Is he….is he…" she stuttered.

"Alive?" Roksar laughed before smiling proudly, "He is. 624, stand up."

When the male stood, she found herself backing away slowly. All she could see was the memory of human husks, shriveling and changing on ten foot spikes through their chests.

"What have you done?" she asked incredulously.

"Isn't it obvious?" Roksar growled impatiently. "I've harnessed an unexpected leap in technology to modify Krogan DNA for survivability in hostile environments. Soon we won't require terraforming for colonisation, and can inhabit worlds no other council species even wants."

"But…." Jack protested, her brow curling angrily, "He's not even _Krogan _anymore!"

She looked disappointed in her. "You spoke to Kravorog," she said patiently, "Is he not still Krogan?"

Jack's head pulled back and her eyes widened. "You did this to him too?"

"That was the goal, was it not?" Roksar replied, holding out her hands as if explaining to a small child. "Jack, none of us are anything more than a random set of characteristics determined by the worlds in which we evolved. What rule is there that we can't improve upon these flawed models once we leave that birthplace?"

Jack snarled, "Damn, you sound just like a Salarian, you know that?"

The Krogan's eyes flashed, but she exhaled before answering. "Baiting me is unwise, human."

"Crush says you can't touch me," Jack said with a provocatively pointed finger, "And the truth's the truth, no matter where it comes from. What makes Kravorog any different from the twisted shits the Reapers threw at us, huh?"

"Heh," she huffed. "For one, he can be reasoned with. For two, he _chose _this. Did _they _?

_Good point _, she thought, feeling more than a little hypocritical thanks to her own augmentations. "Whatever," However, was what came out of her mouth.

Roksar sighed. "You aren't the only one concerned about this and I understand why it's disturbing. As a warrior, it can be upsetting when an enemy utilizes a new strategy or weapon that you have not trained for; but death does not care for your complaints. You must adapt to whatever strategy works or _admit defeat _. We are only adapting to the galaxy's demands. The battlefields of the past will stay with us as stories and legend."

It took a moment, but Jack put her hands on her hips, started to grin, then began to laugh, shaking her head.

"Jesus H," Jack finally said, cracking her neck to relieve some of the tension there. "You're the one that needs to be down there in the negotiations, Roks. That's what Grunt has been saying _the entire time _."

Roksar cocked a brow. "Indeed? I don't have the power to make decisions for the clan, but we will be discussing the matter."

"Yeah? Well you wouldn't have got the chance if you left it to your boyfriend just a bit ago."

She shrugged as if it made no difference. "I will hear what Grunt has to say."

Jack nodded and took a deep cleansing breath. She looked at the vacant-eyed Krogan still standing there on the other side of the glass. Whatever experiments they were doing, they had to be painful for the subjects, which was a sore fucking spot for her. She turned her attention to the Asari and said, "So these are clones, yeah?"

"That's correct," she said in a breezy voice. "They were made from Kravorog's own samples."

"And what, they don't talk or feel?"

"No," the Asari said, concern in her eyes, "They barely have any awareness at all. Only enough to follow basic commands that are programmed before birth."

"Okay," Jack breathed. At least they weren't being asshats about it. After a moment she looked back at them and smiled. "Tour over?"

Roksar shook her head. "You haven't met the other human yet. I thought you might keep one another company while you're here."

"Oh yeah, sure," Jack said. "Lead on."

They continued down the corridor to the last room before another set of sliding doors. On the left wall was a table with a set of armor in pieces on it. Jack was surprised to see the red and white stripe of an N7 class soldier on the arm and suddenly found herself a lot more interested in this guest...which made her appearance all the more shocking.

Sprawled on the bed of the room was something that barely looked human at all. The shape was there, and one half seemed normalish, with dark skin and an eye that looked clearly at her. The other half was...deformed. No that wasn't right. All the parts were there; they were just white. Blank white, like scar tissue almost, except it was ridged and curved like muscle where there should be none. The eye on that side was large, way too large, and liquid white, too. The white seemed to be growing across her face, neck and shoulders...as if it were reaching into the ebony of her skin on the other side and disappearing underneath; and the only symmetry between the two was the long white hair she had pulled back in a severe tail. But that wasn't the worst of it.

They'd caught her mid-meal. Her mouth was open and her hand was putting something in there, but it didn't look like food and it didn't sound like it when the crunching started. Before her, on a folded cloth, was a pile of dark looking rocks. She didn't stop eating as they arrived; only looked up at them with a deep-seated hatred Jack knew only too well.

This was just too many things at once, and Jack wondered if she hadn't dreamed the last fucking half hour of her life. She looked at Roksar and could feel her blood pressure rising.

"What….in the SHIT...is this?" 


End file.
